


Exception On Line 129

by Vosueh



Category: Original Work, SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Amnesia, Angst, Anterograde Amnesia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Daddy Issues, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Police Brutality, Recovery, Violence, bad coping, human 079 is a bit of an asshole but tbh did you expect anything else, no not the sexy kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vosueh/pseuds/Vosueh
Summary: Zero is a reclusive computer science major, floating by in college with the help of vodka by his side. His only human interaction seems to be from his distant father, who abandoned him as a child but now is trying to make a bit of effort to be back in his life. And after a failed virus he sends to a Cray supercomputer gets exposed, he is forced to pay for the consequences of his cyber crimes in more ways than one.During an unnecessarily violent arrest, he suffers a brain injury and anterograde amnesia, damaging his short-term memory. But during his time detained, he meets a violent man with an infamous short-temper, who takes a surprising interest in him.
Relationships: SCP-079 & SCP-682 (SCP Foundation), SCP-079/SCP-682 (SCP Foundation)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 138





	1. Malware Detected

**Author's Note:**

> Just for clarity:  
> Human SCP-079's name: Zero Sept Novem (lit. zero seven nine)

One single line was left unchecked in his code, one blaringly obnoxious bug that chirped every goddamn time Zero tried to compile his program.

_Exception in thread “main”: IOException.java.129_

Zero had spent weeks on this program, this hack, in order to break the firewall around the Cray supercomputer and send over some parasitic algorithms that would piggy-back on the supercomputer’s sheer computing power, calculate trials of data, and return to him the results with none of the wait time. Running these algorithms on any of his own computers, even with his programs being the sole thing running, is estimated to take at least a week to run through one generation of trials.

And according to his calculations, the Cray supercomputer can do it in six minutes.

This was all that was left. One nasty bug. One error in his code: a line that scrambled his IP address from his computer to the supercomputer. Only his parasite program will be able to unscramble it to send his data back. And this was the very line that hid the unscrambling from being read from anyone prying into the supercomputer’s code.

But it wasn’t working. Months of effort and weeks of debugging down the drain because Zero nodded off on the data encapsulation chapter from last semester’s university programming classes.

With an agitated huff, he leaned back in his desk chair, pretending he didn’t notice the time at the corner of his computer screen was just reaching past four in the morning, and his morning classes start at eight. He compulsively chewed at his bottom lip piercing, clacking his teeth against the metal ring, like he always did when he was stressed and itching for a cigarette.

An unsteady hand reached for the top drawer of the desk, and without looking he sent a thin bony hand in blind and retrieved a half-empty packet of cigarettes like second nature. As the hand flipped the carton open and expertly locked a single cigarette between two fingers, his other reached for the lighter on his cracked and worn desk, flicking a short-lived flame before him and lighting his fifth cigarette for the night.

On a shaky exhale, a plume of smoke clouded between Zero and his computer screen like a blissful momentary escape from the blaring artificial light. The bright white lines of code stood stark against the black IDE screen. The lurid scarlet red error message still burned in his head.

_Exception in thread “main”: IOException.java.129_

A sharp elbow to the top desk drawer closed it, alongside the cigarette carton he dropped haphazardly in. The lighter was lazily thrown with frustration into the poor wood of the desk’s surface, nearly so much as to cause one more dent to the constellations covering it.

A dangerous thought bubbled up in his consciousness, like toxic air sitting at the bottom of a cauldron, begging to break the surface. 

_As if they would even know his program was there, embedded so deep in their systems._ Part of his ego smirked at that thought. Part of his fatigue egged his untrustworthy ego on.

He could take the line out. Forget the scrambling, and give the supercomputer his direct IP address. Heaven knows it’s processing way more than his lengthy data structures.

No one will notice his hack was even there.

Slowly, after taking a hesitant draw of his cigarette, his hand finally reunited with the keyboard. But Zero only needed one button though to finalize this program.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace, _backspace_.

And with that, the IP address scrambling was no more. After a single compile, that ugly red error message vanished.

The ego deep inside Zero sang in content. The fatigue taunting him with sleep hummed with glee. He took another draw of smoke, clouding his lungs, clouding his mind, and finalized the deed.

Using the internet like a highway, his hack near-instantaneous zipped past the surprisingly exploitable firewall of the Cray supercomputer hundreds of miles away, and seeded deep into their systems.

Zero sighed, in both relief and exhaustion, when he received a scheduled ping back from his parasitic virus, confirming it was embedded and establishing its line of communication back.

Unceremoniously, he slammed his laptop shut, and snubbed out his dying cigarette on the trashy yin-and-yang ashtray his distant father had gotten him as a half-assed birthday gift a couple of years ago. At least it got good use; Zero’s smoking habit had only gotten worse and worse with the ongoing years. 

As if his thin body weighed a ton, he shuffled over with slumping shoulders to his unmade bed, finding comfort right in the same welcoming crease in the twin mattress that he had reluctantly crawled out of this Sunday noon. Only this time, he hadn’t the luxury of sleeping through the morning, and begrudgingly set his Monday morning alarms before quickly succumbing to the night’s exhaustion without a second thought. 

Meanwhile, a control center hundreds of miles away received a ping. It would go unread until six in the morning when the first malware protection IT staff clock in for the day, but the tagline flashed urgently.

_Warning: intruder malware detected at Cray Inc. supercomputer. Immediate attention advised._


	2. Thunderstorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero's actions catch up with him.

It didn’t happen like an earthquake, with a low haunting rumble forewarning the land. It didn’t happen like a tornado, lurking like a bane in the sky, until finally making contact with cursed earth. It didn’t happen like lightning, striking fast with devastation but ending as soon as it started.

It happened like a godforsaken thunderstorm on a crystal clear day. 

It happened like blotchy silver clouds billowing over a bright cyan sky in seconds. It happened like the claps of thunder ripping the sky in half and causing it to unleash a deafening scream. 

It happened, quite simply, out of nowhere.

Wednesday morning is crammed with two back to back university classes, but the rest of the day Zero always had free. And he usually spent his Wednesday afternoon like any other programming or messing around with his algorithm, but this particular afternoon was already off on a bad start as he slammed back another swig of his shitty Popov vodka, already killing nearly half a fifth, and sucking a heavy draw from his fourth cigarette as a lackluster surrogate to a much-needed chaser.

Watching literally whatever was on the first channel when he turned on the television, his focus was really only half on the entertainment; he was more concerned over how many more cigarettes he was going to have to burn through before he killed this bottle. Growing impatient with his ever-so-growing tolerance for alcohol, Zero sloppily pressed the home button of his cellphone laid atop his cluttered coffee table with his cigarette hand, accidentally drizzling a light dusting of ash upon the screen.

Two missed calls from his dad flashed on screen as well as five text messages from him. More importantly, the time showed two thirty-three in the afternoon, about an hour into his drinking. It had started from the first text message his dad sent a couple of hours ago, a soft-hearted request to see him and catch up on how Zero’s life has been.

Too little too late. A creep of anxious tightness swirled in his chest, an instinctual afterburn from the smoulder of his dejected childhood. He nervously chewed at his lower lip ring. 

Pretending all he saw on the screen was the time, Zero hungrily sucked the last huff from his cigarette, mentally deciding it should be his last for this session, and snuffed out the last cinders on the overflowing ashtray wedged between two cleared vodka bottles and a stack of last semester’s textbooks, of which now made some real mediocre coasters.

Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring its pleading creak that even his light weight was a threat with its cheap frame, Zero squeezed his eyes shut and gulped down a few mouthfuls of the vodka, tuning out the background cartoon audio from the television into a meaningless din, ringing ever so softly in his ears.

And then thunder shattered his clear blue skies.

Hefty, booming knocks struck the door of his single-bedroom apartment.

“Lakewood police. We are here to execute an arrest warrant for Zero Novem and have this address on record as his residence. Open up or we will enter with force.” The voice was gruff, and concise, like the lines an overzealous teenage theater kid would practice in their head over and over for the strongest performance. But that’s all it was; a little performance, and it didn’t take more than a second for Zero to realize even through his moderate intoxication that this particular cop took his job way too seriously.

Perhaps too much alcohol was in his system to really spring his mind into full out panic mode, or spare a morsel of thought towards the idea that the arrest warrant was in any way legitimate.

“Officer, ‘shu got the wrong place,” Zero slurred back, louder than he thought he was being, “I couldn’t have done anything wrong if I don’t leave this place for nothin’ but school.”

The honesty was there, but only if for the fact that Zero hasn’t been anywhere but school, his home, and the grocery store in the last month. Not even a job, thanks to a weekly petty allowance from his dad. And even then, none of his latest ventures outside his home immediately pinged noteworthy in his head.

“Sir, open the door,” the officer replied curtly, his voice immediately overly cautious at the notice that the apartment’s resident was drunk. Maybe that was par for the course with college students, but maybe not so much at half-past two in the afternoon.

With an annoyed groan, mind still too cloudy with stormy billows to quite register that there was a chance he could actually be in trouble, Zero pushed off the couch with a calibrating stumble, making sure his feet were feeling firm on the ground before his hands half-heartedly pulled the front of his black t-shirt taut to smooth it out and appear somewhat presentable. After a quick fight with his lower lip ring, as a bit of nerves always giving him the instinct to bite it, he finally unlocked the front door and cracked it ajar, barely poking his head out as to hide the mess of an apartment behind him.

“Can I help you _officer_?” Almost in a sing-song voice, Zero immediately failed to make himself seem any more sober.

“Zero Novem, you’re under arrest, come out and stand against the wall.” The officer at this point had taken a defensive position, hand already on his gun in its holster, almost like a silent threat. A threat that Zero was too intoxicated to notice, or perhaps even take seriously.

Instead, he chuckled; sloppily, not in any smooth way at all, he gave his head an exaggerated shake left to right. “No, ‘m not, officer that doesn’t make any sense.”

And that’s when the thunder cracked. And by thunder, the officer’s hand smack forth onto the front of the door, forcing the door to slam hard into the adjacent wall in the apartment and sending Zero stumbling back. And perhaps in a more sober state, that stumble wouldn’t have also have sent him onto the ground, dazed when the overzealous cop immediately intruded in.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Zero immediately hissed at the officer, feeling the sting of the fall zip up and down his back, groaning as he sat up onto the palms of his hands.

The officer reached for Zero’s forearm, presumably to attempt to pull him up and cuff him, but instead his drunken senses were just fast enough to defiantly kick out his leg the second the cop’s hand got close.

And somehow, despite having the coordination of a blind kitten at this point, Zero actually landed the weak kick. The officer grunted, more in frustration than any sort of pain, and perhaps that anger inside him boiled a little too close to the brim that he found his own leg pulling back, rearing for a kick of his own.

And without thought, only with anger, the officer sent a steel-toed boot swinging forward.

Perhaps his intent was just to get Zero into submission. Perhaps he felt undermined, disrespected, and entitled to kick back. Perhaps he’d had a bad morning and this defiant drunk college student was the last thing he wanted to take the time to deal with.

Perhaps the officer just wanted to cuff him up and get back to the station as soon as possible, but that wasn’t going to happen. 

When that foot swung down, it cracked right on the side of Zero’s skull.

Despite appearing thin and frail, a grotesquely loud thud of his body sounded as he hit the ground, knocking the back of his head against the hardwood floor and giving his brain an electrifying rattle. But Zero didn’t even feel the second hit when it came down again; he was already out cold, with a deep gash above his ear already gushing out a red halo around his head.

He was going to be riding in the back of an ambulance rather than a police car today.


	3. Numin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero awakens after the injury to his head, and finds himself sharing a hospital room with an intresting roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human SCP-682's name is Numin

Bright. That was the first coherent thought in his head.

Too bright, it was overwhelming his senses. Brilliant vivid white that hurts to look at. 

Zero stirred, shifting in a hazy state of not-so-conscious consciousness, blinking in response to the white fluorescent lights above him on the ceiling. In the room he heard a rhythmic electronic beat, a synthetic representation of his pulse, and when he shifted in his stiff white bed sheets he felt the tug of the cord around a clip on his finger, along with an unyielding pinch on the top of his hand from his IV drip’s needle being disturbed.

A throbbing bang echoed inside his head, aching from the disturbance brought on by the brightness.

Familiar pain. But he struggled to remember how.

It reminded him of his wasted weekends hungover from blacking out alone in his apartment, a vengeful bang ringing around in his head to haunt him for his indulgences from the night before. Then wasted weekends became weekdays, and the familiarity of a hangover headache was one that often followed him into his morning classes at school.

Not quite, though. Familiar like something else.

It was reminiscent of the first time a girl hit him. It wasn’t a slap; if only, then perhaps it wouldn’t have stung as bad, but granted his back was turned to her so it probably made the most sense to her at the time to sucker punch him. It was his sophomore year in high school, and he had taken her to Homecoming, still discovering himself and trying to force himself to like girls. The girl was more into him than he was to her, so perhaps when she stepped outside looking for her date only to find his tongue down another boy’s throat it must’ve really hurt deep. Still, as Zero would argue, not at hurtful as the throbbing headache he had for the rest of the night. At least the cute boy that helped him discover himself that night had some ibuprofen in his car.

But no, still not right. Familiar, but this headache was different. The pain wasn’t from within, it felt… _without_.

A thin pale hand, shaking undeliberately, reached up to his temple, feeling the skin enveloped in the softness of gauze. Confused, eyes still adjusting to the bright ceiling he was facing above him where he lay, Zero went straight to tucking his bottom lip under his top so he could anxiously chew at his lip ring. Only to find, much to his delirious surprise, that it was missing. A quick swipe of his tongue along the inside of his upper lip also confirmed his medusa stud piercing was missing as well.

Without his default comfort stimulation, his anxiety bubbled up, darkening his mind.

A horrible burning tightness curled in his chest, and his lungs felt constricted by some invisible weight getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment of being awake.

Familiar, but different. Bright, but dark, oh so dark, everything in his head was dark and faint with every throb echoing in his skull.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong with his _head_.

Finally, as if waiting to confirm what he had a haunting feeling he already knew, his fingertips ghosted the hem of the gauze on his temple, trailing gently until reaching a heavier padded section of bandages on the side. Perhaps not in the clearest state of mind, his shaky fingertips left the hem to drag his middle and forefinger ever so gently over the thick padding on his head, a little above his right ear.

And, on the ever-so-slightest press from those fingers, a splitting pain tore through his skull and ricocheted inside his head.

A hoarse whimper clawed its way from Zero’s throat, both of physical pain and devastating remembrance.

A police officer had split his head open.

That dark tight grip in his ribcage suddenly squeezed. It squeezed so much that the air leaving his breath was just a little huff, forcing him to suck in an inhale to try and lighten up his painfully constricted lungs, only to have the newfound air leave just as quickly on a sudden exhale. The confusion and fogginess in Zero’s mind swam in circles, riding the waves of the thunderclaps in his head, seemingly throbbing faster and faster.

The lights are too bright. His chest is too tight. There are echoes of drums banging around in his brain.

He couldn’t catch his breath. The air was escaping him, and he felt just the start of tears well up in his eyes in sheer anguish to his confusing new state.

But before grief and anxiety could completely swallow him up in a fit of hyperventilation, A gruff voice caught his attention from within the room.

“Don’t you start with that. You’re gonna get the fucking nurses up in here if you start freaking out.” It was a male voice, decidedly irritated and cold, that drew Zero to finally break his eyes off the ceiling and down to a fellow roommate in his overlit infirmary room.

His eyes meet with the bright green ones of a tan man, lounged back in a hospital bed of his own, one broad arm casually crossed over his midsection and brow furrowed in annoyance. It almost looked as if he had awoken the man from a nap, perhaps by either the start of his panicked breathing or maybe by the growing frequency of his heart monitor’s beats cueing off his racing heart for anyone to hear. A few-day-old stubble decorated the other man’s sharp jawline, matching the same burnt sienna color of his short-cut hair. It seemed his right forearm was wrapped up in bandages, most likely the cause of him being here in the infirmary himself.

As soon as Zero’s confused big eyes met the other man’s, his roommate responded with a disgusted sneer, narrowing his eyes and abruptly breaking them off from Zero’s.

“Ah, I forgot, I’m talking to a doorstop. Your brain’s probably scrambled like eggs after that hit.” His tone portrayed no actual sympathy, more cruelty if anything. As if he was talking to a dirty cockroach on the floor, something he was inherently above and wasn’t going to waste his time conversing with.

Recognition dusted across Zero’s mind, clearing some of the fogginess of the initial anxiety. Soon enough, it was bitterly overcome with a gripping anger.

“That _fucking_ cop.” Zero hissed, remembering the arrogant officer who split his skull on the toe of his boot just to make a show of himself. “I’m gonna fucking _kill him_.”

A flicker of intrigue flashed across the other man’s piercing green eyes, surprised. And, ever so slightly, the look of annoyance lifted and the corner of his lip curled just a bit. As if the proclivity for revenge was what made the difference between him and a cockroach not worth his time.

“Oh, are you now?” His hands came down on the bed, and he pushed himself to sit up straight, turning to look Zero square in the eye. The green of his own took on a darker hue, almost mockingly. “I’m sorry to say, but you don’t look like you’re in much shape to even hurt a fly.”

Rather than yield, Zero’s eyes narrowed. Frustrated, even through his headache and disorientation. “Who the fuck are you to say?”

Amused, the larger man chuckled, enjoying the surprising spunk from such a lithe man.

“I’m something you can’t even comprehend,” there was an arrogance in his deep voice, but not an empty one. 

There was an obvious power in those words, and Zero could hear it.

With an intrigued raised eyebrow, Zero debated whether he should take that as a threat. The residue anxiety still sitting at the bottom of his chest begged him to play it meek. But there was a dangerous feeling in the back of Zero’s pounding head, to entertain this interesting roommate. 

He crossed his arms. “Does this something have a name?”

The tan man smirked again, this time wider, showing teeth like a predator would to scare its prey.

“Numin.” His voice was low when he responded, more in tone rather than volume. It carried an unnatural power in it that Zero decided he liked.

He returned the man a smirk of his own. Not yielding like the prey Numin expected him to be.

“I’m Zero,” he offered back, a name for a name, “and I’m surprised you’re acting so almighty when you’re in this room, same as me.”

With a nod of his head to the rail of his hospital bed, Numin gave a jostle of his right hand, showcasing the clink of the handcuff chaining him to his place. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I had a say in it. Unlike you, I’m enough of a threat that the police feel the need to chain me up, infirmary be damned.”

It was only at his acknowledgment did Zero looked down at his own wrists and found himself unbound. Even in his poor shape with his throbbing head injury, he was technically bound by nothing more than a heart rate monitor and an IV line.

“Ah. How careless of them, I wonder why.” Raising his two hands to show off his bare wrists, Zero felt the IV needle dig uncomfortably under his skin. It was hard to resist the urge to yank it out.

“I know why.” Numin’s gruff voice cut in, distracting Zero from his IV needle.

“Oh? And…?” Zero egged on, albeit distracted in both the steady backdrop thump of his headache, and his still evasive coherence keeping an underlying feeling of slight confusion lingering around.

Numin avoided meeting his eyes, but he wasn’t sure the reason for. Zero tried once more, prying a bit.

“And now you’re not talking… let me guess, you’re the quiet and brooding type?” Gauging the tone of the conversation was less hostile and more easygoing, Zero tested the waters with a further step, flashing him a devious smirk. “The bad boy aura must be popular with the ladies. Hell, even with men-- can’t lie, I’ve gone home with guys like that before.”

The sentiment immediately piqued interest back in Numin, but Zero couldn’t tell right away what from; a bit of regret suddenly washed up with how careless he was being, ignoring the chance this guy who could easily snap him in half could be homophobic.

But, before he could nervous bite at his bottom lip again and forget once more he didn’t have his lip ring, the other man responded with a low chuckle.

“Ha, makes sense why I get so many twinks coming up to me at bars. And here I was just trying to be a brooding recluse in peace.”

Zero blinked twice in surprise, and as if reading it on his face the moment he glanced back at him, Numin offered a solidarity smile back, “can’t lie either, it’s always nice how easy they tend to come home with me.”

Obvious brag aside, Zero was filled with such relief and intrigue all at once that he couldn’t help a quick little smile back at him. 

“Thank god, I almost thought you were straight and I was screwed.”

Numin’s expression lit up with a bit of amusement, and he filled the air with a deep laughter. “You’re fine. I’m bisexual though, so don’t just think it’s only men who are constantly throwing themselves at me.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Zero crossed his arms, feeling the sharp IV needle dig beneath his skin. “Ah, so humble of you”

The larger man shook his head, almost in an all-knowing manner. 

“Humility is for the ones who don’t know their self-worth. Too many disgusting people just don’t put their money where their mouth is— I am an almighty force, and I am well aware of it.”

Like thunder forewarning the power of a storm, there was something to the raw power in his voice that persuaded Zero to believe it without needing to see it. After all, one doesn’t need to go outside and witness storm clouds to prove if thunder is telling the truth; rather, it is by nature to know that thunder means a storm.

Just like it is by nature to know an ungodly power when one is speaking to it. 

Which Zero, in no doubt to his strength, decided to respond sarcastically in good fun, “Gotcha, so almighty that you can only be contained by a metal bracelet to your bed.”

Taking the comment amiably, despite knowing when he’s in a rage state he’s broken clean out of handcuffs before, Numin jabbed back good-spiritedly, “At least I’m not so unthreatening that they don’t bother handcuffing me at all.”

Amused, Zero chuckled, although upon the reminder of his lack-of-cuffed hands he did get the urge to re-ask his question from earlier.

“Actually, speaking of, you said you knew why they didn’t handcuff me…?”

The lighthearted atmosphere noticeably dropped. 

The other man broke his eyes away once more.

“Yeah. I know why they didn't.” Despite his reply, Numin was starting to regret saying that earlier at all.

Zero perked an eyebrow, and cocked his head a bit to the side. He wanted to use the man’s name in a sarcastic reply, but it seemed to have slipped his mind. Disregarding the blank he was drawing, he responded back anyways; “You have me at the edge of my seat. Do I get to know?”

The sarcasm was there but Zero felt the delivery was lacking without the man’s name. His head was still throbbing, albeit less noticeable what with the exciting company, and he blamed his lapse of memory on that.

However, lost in his thoughts he failed to notice a change on the other man’s expression. During their conversation the harsh edge of Numin’s words was softer, finding a surprising liking to the young man rather than disgust. And for the first time since they’ve talked, Zero could’ve sworn a sliver of sympathy danced in those jade green eyes for a split second.

“They, um... I don’t think they expected you to wake up so soon…” Numin’s voice dropped in a lower octave, adding to the weight of his words, an eerie seriousness their chat hadn’t previously had. “...I think, from what I overheard, they were pretty sure your brain was scrambled good.”

Despite mentioning this fact earlier in a mocking jab, Numin seemed to have warmed up enough to Zero to feel a bit dejected at remembering what the nurses had said earlier. It wasn’t to him, it was to the attending officers asking about the state of their detainee, and from what Numin overheard it didn’t sound good.

“Scrambled? Yeah, I’m sure that pig did his worst. But I bet this splitting headache won’t stick around for more than a few days, and then I should be right as rain.” The confusion was tightening up Zero’s chest again, with his roommate’s newfound grim tone making him on edge.

Numin took a deep sigh.

“Look, from what I overheard… They were saying that it’s a TBI, a traumatic brain injury. They don’t know how bad, but it's worse than a concussion, and so they expected you to be knocked out a while longer.”

A numbing drop hit the bottom of Zero’s chest, and that familiar constriction around his rib cage smothered him.

He didn’t realize how dry his throat suddenly felt until he began speaking.

“But… but that’s not right, right? I’m up. I’m coherent.”

Despite an overwhelming attempt to appear stoic, Numin failed to meet Zero’s eyes. His jaw tightened instead, reluctant to continue.

“Zero, you’ve been in a coma for five days. You were like that when you got here. I’ve been here a week and this is the first time you’ve even sat up, let alone speak.”

The banging inside his skull got harder. Each throb disrupting his train of thought, making it harder to keep track of anything else.

“No, no that’s not right. I _just_ woke up here. I haven’t been here long, I-I just _barely_ started talking to you…”

Each word was a fight against the constriction in his chest, and Zero couldn’t clearly recall how long he’s been awake. Or how he started talking to his roommate. Or why there was a painful dig on the top of his hand when he moved it, a pound in his head when he tried to think, and a rhythmic synthetic beep in the room that grew in frequency.

“I-I mean, who are you to even say? You’re not a doctor, I don’t even know you. Hell, I don’t even know your _name_.”

The delirium was festering inside his brain like a maggot would on raw meat. Further, said incoherence was becoming clearer to Numin, through a grim and painful display: Zero’s memory was shot.

“Zero, I told you my name. It’s Numin.” Concern began to flood his jaded eyes. Pushing his legs over to sit off the side of the bed, Numin tugged at his handcuffs, testing their sturdiness and gauging their willingness to yield. Part of him felt strange but compelled, getting antsy and on edge seeing Zero get so distressed.

Something about this man he met resonated with a deep lost feeling inside him. Something like empathy. Or maybe something like care.

All he knew was it hurt to see Zero like this.

Perhaps Numin was too much of a stranger to these feelings to control them well. But whatever sliver inside him that saw something in this other man refused to let him feel in control; Numin was acting out of nature, out of straightforward desire to get these bad feelings to stop, as his tugging against the handcuffs grew violent.

Zero was already lost in the tightness gripping around his lungs like his whole ribcage was collapsing down upon them. Air in his chest felt fleeting and weak. Thoughts in his head felt throbbing and foggy. It was getting hard to remember where he was.

He was a bit too overwhelmed to notice a loud snap, the plastic base of the hospital bed’s metal railing breaking off from Numin yanking his cuffed arm with an extraordinary unnatural force to free himself.

And, snaking the cuff off the liberated railing, he hastily pushed off the bed’s side uninhibited.

Rather than panic, he made his way briskly over to Zero’s bedside, and put his hand on the smaller man’s back the very first moment he was within reach, sitting down beside him close.

As if having a sudden ground to the world around him, Zero looked up at Numin, bewilderment in his big watery eyes, and a glisten of a cold sweat starting on his face. Air was escaping his throat on gasps, as if he were suffocating on sheer anxiety.

A deep part in Numin’s chest ached too, just watching him.

“Slow breaths. Count with me, Zero. Inhale; one, two, three…”

The broad hand across his back went in firm yet gentle circles with each number, and Zero found himself instinctually following those instructions. On a count to three he tried to draw in air, even if it didn’t feel like enough. And on the next count, he exhaled, even though it felt like there was hardly any air in him.

“...that’s good, hold it. Now again, exhale, one, two, three…”

For a few moments this went on. Numin did so without question or hesitation, guiding Zero down from his delirious panic.

And as his breathing slowly stabilized and a calm set in, Numin found those bad feelings inside him fading too. Instead, a sense of relief filled him, relief that this new man he’s only just met was now calmed.

The concept was alien to him. All other people, for lack of a better term, disgusted Numin. Like the disgust one would have to a cockroach on the floor, and the lack of remorse they would feel to stomp and grind it under their shoe.

It felt like Numin has been living in a world of cockroaches all these years, until today he met someone else. The first real person on this planet, at least the first real one to him. 

Long after Zero’s breathing had stabilized, Numin continued the gentle circles on his back, unspokenly so. And after coming down off of such intense panic, the gesture wasn’t dismissed by the smaller man in the slightest. Not even questioned.

He kept his eyes closed tight, as if it took every mental effort to pace his breathing in his head now that the other man wasn’t verbally guiding him. But it felt good to have those soothing rubs on his back to sync his breathing with, or maybe it just felt good to just have someone there for him.

Somebody there for him. Now _that_ was a feeling Zero was unfamiliar with.

When he finally felt like he was collected enough to step back into the world, he opened his eyes once more, and the first coherent thought in his head kicked in...

Bright. Too bright, it was overwhelming his senses. 

But this time there was a tall stranger beside him, with a warm hand on his back, making the brightness tolerable. His figure was so large, he blotched out some of the light by sitting next to him, enough that it grounded Zero firmly to the infirmary room. It made everything less overwhelming.

Zero liked this new stranger, and that’s not something he seems to think about anyone.

When he finally broke the silence to speak, he did it with a sheepish chuckle, “You’re gonna hate me. What did you say your name was again?”

The other man offered a low laugh, deep and rumbling. It felt very rewarding after the tension from earlier, like that last signs of the residue anxiety fading away.

“It’s Numin. Here, I’ll write it on the back of your hand so you don’t forget.” There was a noticeable softness to his voice this time, a fondness that bled through the fabric of his words.

He reached over and plucked a free pen clipped to Zero’s chart at the base of the bed, before picking up the smaller man’s hand, contrasting it in his own broad and calloused ones.

Upon lifting it, he noticed the IV drip needle taped down, lodged deep into a vein running lengthwise down the back of his hand.

Peaking up an eyebrow, he looked to Zero.

“Or with the limited real estate, I could write it on your wrist?”

Zero offered an exhausted smile, weak and drained but still pleasant nonetheless to the other man.

And, finally ridding himself of that irksome prickle, he yanked the IV needle out from his vein in a single tug of his other hand, using the tape that once held it down as a surrogate bandaid. After properly smoothing it over, he presented his hand back to Numin, gracefully palm down.

“I think this is more important than some stupid IV.”

Numin flashed him a smirk in response. Uncapping the pen, he made quick work to record his name down in print.

Upon his finishing, Zero brought his hand up to take a good look at the lettering, surprised by the neat handwriting from such a brutish man. Then again, he should start expecting the unexpected with this new roommate of his.

“Numin, huh?” Softly, Zero smiled, bringing his eyes back up. They were practically beaming.

“I think I really like that name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think! This is a lot different than the style I'm used to, but I hope it's good!
> 
> (also, side note, how dark are you guys okay with me making this? Hard angst is more of my forte and I got some bad ideas brewing)


	4. Sedation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nurses have a much different way to deal with Zero when he has a panic attack.

The nurses threw quite a fit when they came in that morning for their morning rounds.

“Mr. Belua, please step back. You’re not supposed to be out of your restraints.” The nurses were overly cautious, much to Zero’s confusion, as they ushered his roommate into the corner of the room, of which Numin begrudgingly complied with slit-thin eyes narrowing at them all. Reminiscent of a snake being corralled, the threat of him lashing out seemingly loomed over the room’s atmosphere, despite what can only technically be called compliance as he made his way painstakingly slow over to the designated corner the head nurse had pointed him to. 

One was already on the phone, a younger woman who was practically shaking as she gave quiet yet fervent commands over the line. Zero could only assume it was to the police, informing them that one of their detainees had breached containment.

But he couldn’t figure out just why she was so scared. Sure, Numin was large and intimidating. But the way she acted was as if an active shooter just walked into the room.

Everyone seemed in quite the state of anxiety, of which didn’t help Zero’s own after such careful efforts to calm him down. And paradoxically to the hectic atmosphere regarding his lack of restraints, Numin was calm and crossed armed, leaning against the wall in the corner with cold eyes as he watched the agitated nurses. One was on the phone, another was acting as a poor surrogate to guard the door, and yet another was talking to Zero to assess him. And, only when his sharp virescent eyes fell upon Zero did they soften, ever so slightly, before bringing them away to continue observing the room.

“Sir, sir can you hear me?” The male nurse before Zero repeated, and with a few startled blinks bringing him back to reality did he realize he was being addressed.

“Y-yes? I can hear you, sorry. I didn’t expect so many people.”

With a furrow of his brow, the nurse looked almost sympathetic.

“Sorry, it must be overwhelming, but you are currently being housed with a high-threat level patient. He wasn’t supposed to get out of his restraints.” Invasively, and quite unexpectedly, his hands were on Zero, examining his bandages. The sudden intrusion of hands made his skin crawl in discomfort, but he was still a little too delirious and out of it to quite protest. 

“Mr. Novem, I know this might be a hard question, but while Mr. Belua was unrestrained did he hurt you?”

The question took Zero off guard, and the look of bewilderment spilt across his face surely showed it. 

“No, not at all.”

The nurse stopped to look down at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Nevertheless, he skipped over Zero’s response. 

“Well, we’re sorry for any inconvenience your stay with him may have caused. We assumed you were going to be unconscious for a while longer.”

Zero blinked blankly back at him. The man was unwrapping his head bandages, as if to check the wound. Numin was still in the corner, watching him silently as if the room was just them, without the gaggle of nurses about. The look he was giving him wasn’t outwardly unnoticeable, but when Zero met his eyes a recognizable spark flashed over them. Concern.

The nurse broke his attention away once more, pestering with another question.

“How long have you been awake? Can you tell me your name and birthday?”

Bleary-eyed, he turned back up to face the man tending to his head wound. It stung as he dabbed it with some sort of disinfectant, and he found himself sucking in a sharp inhale in response.

“My name is Zero Novem. I was born July ninth, nineteen ninety-two. I… I-I don’t remember how long I’ve been awake.”

Another surface-deep smile from the nurse, nodding sympathetically in a way that came off more patronizing than caring. “That’s common with head injuries like yours. Can you tell me what you remember happening before you woke up?”

Zero was silent for a moment, having trouble concentrating with the banging in his head and the stinging of the wound. The nurse was already rewrapping it.

“A… A cop knocked me to the ground… and then he just started kicking,” his throat felt dry, and the weight in his chest was settling in again. The nurse noticed the pulse on the heart monitor pick up in speed, a familiar backdrop tempo to anxiety. “He wouldn’t stop kicking me. He wouldn’t...”

His voice trailed off with a mourning whimper. Thoughts in his head were melting and mending together, turning everything into a garbled mess. When the nurse’s hand left his head and made a reach for his forearm, attempting to inspect the ripped out IV, Zero found himself reeling back from his touch.

“ _D-don’t touch me._ ” Eyes big and watery, yet brow furrowed in upset, he held his arm in the other as if the nurse’s touch burnt through his skin.

As if in a show of benevolence, the nurse put both his hands up, a gesture that he meant no harm.

“Sir, this is just a routine check. Did you take your IV out?”

With a confused knit of his brow, Zero looked down at the hand in question, indeed finding a missing IV from the tape. Inside, the name _Numin_ in pen was written across the back in neat lettering.

The memory woke up inside him. Numin wrote his name down so Zero wouldn’t forget. 

How did Zero forget that interaction so soon?

“I don’t remember if I took my IV out.” Dumbfounded by his own words, Zero stared into the back of his hand blankly. Why can’t he remember the IV being there? Or when Numin wrote down his name?

Even memories of his roommate were feeling fuzzy and out of focus in his mind.

The nurse looked over to Numin, who was still crossed armed, leaning against the wall with a look across his face like he was as irritated as ever.

“Mr. Belua, did he take out his IV? Or did you?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mr. Belua, I’m gonna have to ask you to be civil and answer the question.”

“No way. _Fuck you_.”

While the other nurses were looking antsy and nervous around Numin, the one tending to Zero seemed more experienced with him and annoyed rather than afraid. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Zero, reaching forward to grab his hand to replace the IV.

Again, Zero cowered away, yanking back his hand.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” 

His skin was crawling, and the weight in his chest was suffocating him. He didn’t want hands on him. He didn’t want this strange man near him. He felt so confused as he tried focusing on the absent memory of removing the IV, panicked and disoriented by his lack of recollection from what surely must’ve happened recently.

“Sir, if you don’t cooperate, we’re going to have to sedate you.” Aggressively this time, as if fed up with him, the nurse now yanked his hand away and quickly injected the IV needle back in place, ignoring the little yelp of surprise from Zero.

“Stop it! Get away from me!” Delirious, and awfully upset by the surprise prick of the needle, Zero tried to push both hands up against the nurse to shove him away. Everything felt heavy, and his heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. He can’t be touched, not now. 

Everything felt overwhelming and the thud in his head was all he could focus on.

The male nurse sighed. He called forth the one guarding the door, making it apparent he was the leader among them.

“Anderson, please give Mr. Novem twenty milligrams of diazepam.”

Zero’s eyes grew bigger as the other nurse stepped forward, swiping his ID card next to a machine lined with drawers and retrieving a small vial with a clear solution, of which he began to withdraw with a needle.

“Come on, that’s not necessary.” Numin finally spoke up, a harsh edge still in his tone albeit with his words obviously coming out with a bit less control than usual.

“Please don’t interfere Mr. Belua, or we will have to sedate you as well.” The head nurse replied, very cold and methodical in his tone.

“Sedate? What is that-- what are you _doing_!?” Shooting up in bed, Zero attempted to pull out his IV again, only to have the head nurse beside him push down on his already heavy chest and hold him back in the bed, whilst the other with the needle approach and picked up the line of his IV.

“Stop it! Get off me, _get off!!!_ ” Blood running cold like ice but skin still feeling hot and sweaty, drenching him in his own anxiety, Zero began to thrash, only to have the much stronger nurse easily keep his small frame down.

“Cut it out, seriously, this is fucking overkill--” Numin interjected again, this time shrugging off the wall and taking an intimidating step towards the nurses. “You don’t need to put him on Valium, just give him some space.”

Although the nurse Anderson with the needle in hand hesitated, it wasn’t outwardly apparent if it was because Numin approaching was legitimately scaring him or if he was surprised the brutish detainee knew that diazepam was Valium. After all, the head nurse phrased his language carefully in case his patients have heard of Valium and were afraid of the strong sedative.

“This isn’t your call, Mr. Belua.” Even a bit nervous himself, the head nurse kept his hands down hard on Zero’s shoulders, keeping him down despite the thrashing. “Anderson, please focus and give Mr. Novem the injection.”

With a curt nod, despite the nerves showing up on his own face, Anderson adjusted the IV line in hand and pricked the sedative into the Y-set, joining the sedative with the IV solution as he gradually pushed down on the plunger.

“Slowly now. We shouldn’t be using such a small vein,” the head nurse piped up, “and the dosage needs to be administered at five milligrams per minute, are you counting?”

“Yes, I am.” Anderson nervously replied back, shaky of voice but not of hand, making it obvious he found it hard to tune out the constant ‘please’s and ‘stop it’s from his patient. 

The head nurse made sure Zero didn’t get in the way, though, sinking quite a bit of his weight down on the smaller male to keep him pinned. It got harder when Zero began to try and claw at his arms, desperate and delirious, hot tears running down his face in utterly confusion to why they were holding him down so hard and why sedatives needed to be involved.

As evident of the strain it took to fight them, however in vein, Zero’s words were wrecked into raspy huffs, like the little air he was already struggling to inhale was being fought by the weight of the nurse above him.

“Stop, _stop--_ I can’t breathe,” his nails, short as they were, still bit hard as they dug into the slack of the head nurse’s scrubs. “Please stop it, I didn’t do _anything_.”

Numin’s jaw tightened, and he had to consciously keep his eyes down to the floor to keep himself contained. It was getting harder and harder for him not to go over and rip the nurses off of Zero, but heaven knows what would happen if another rage-related assault got added to his case.

White-knuckled, he begrudgingly took a step back, as if back in his corner Zero’s frail pleas sounded further.

“You guys are fucking monsters.” Almost under his breath, despite at any tone his voice being a harrowing noise unmistakably heard to all, Numin hissed at the nurses. 

Anderson, either by nerves or by his concentration to dose the sedative at the correct speed, didn’t look up, even though his brow tightened in acknowledgement.

The head nurse did, however, and offered him nothing more than a side glance and he pinned his delirious patient down.

“Rich coming from you, Mr. Belua. But we are only looking out for his best interests, lest he hurts himself.”

“He was fine before you set foot in this room.” A bit louder this time, composure already so thin, Numin refused to bring his eyes off the ground. Bringing them up to the head nurse’s might just mean glancing at Zero’s fleeting efforts to push them off.

He was already growing quieter, and Anderson stepped away, signally the drug was successful injected.

“There, now that wasn’t too hard. How are you feeling, Mr. Novem?”

Finally getting off him, and straightening out his scrubs in a pseudo-professional manner as if he wasn’t just pinning him down, the head nurse gave a tired smile at Zero.

“L… Lighter?” He slurred back softly, blinking absently at the ceiling. The weight over his chest was gone, and his lungs suddenly felt like there was enough air for them on each huff, gradually allowing his breathing to slow. But his head, already making it difficult to concentrate with his splitting headache, now felt like cotton. As if his very thoughts were just falling out of his ears. Like being awake, but just barely. “My… My head still hurts.”

It wasn’t a good feeling, but he couldn’t quite think enough about his current state to be upset with it. The room around him was background noise, and his body was pudding in the bed, not daring to move an inch. 

“Ah. Yes, you had quite a bump, so it may take a few days for that headache to leave. But what’s important is that you stay down in bed, and not strain yourself.”

In a rather lackluster response, Zero gave a sluggish nod back.

He was so far gone at this point he didn’t notice when the police burst into the room. Nor did he notice when Numin got pinned to the wall, by two separate officers just to keep him contained, as a new pair of handcuffs snapped down on his wrists.

All he saw was the uncomfortably bright fluorescent lights above him, as his consciousness melted like butter, and everything slipped away. 

Awake, but gone.

Here, but not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my characterizations are so off but it's hard to write the personification of an intelligent AI who has anxiety and brain damage. I'm just gonna assume its a lot of panic by default, so roll with me for a while maybe?
> 
> Let me know how I'm getting it down or if I should do some tuning, I read every comment and this fic has been so out of my usual style and range that all feedback is appreciated c:


	5. Not So Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Numin and Zero reconnect after he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead I swear. This chapter was pretty much complete for the longest time, but I needed to proofread and come up with a title. I hope you guys enjoy. I've come upon a lot more free time lately so expect some more updates to come, next chapter is already in the works!

By the time the sedatives have wore off, the prying nurses and noisy cops were long gone. They had originally wanted to question Zero, and so did his doctor, in order to gauge the extent of his head trauma; but all parties concerned were informed he was incompetent for questioning due to his sedation, and deflected until tomorrow to pester him later.

And incompetent indeed; when everyone had left, Numin had attempted to ask how he felt, only to get a slurred ‘what’ back at him, to which he assumed it was best to wait for Zero to be back in a sober clear mind before attempting conversation again.

Sometime in the afternoon Zero slipped under, falling asleep in the same position looking up at the ceiling, with the only indication of sleep being the closure of his eyes, and his already slow heartbeat growing even further apart in tempo on the beep of the heart monitor.

By the evening of that day, when he awoke, his head was finally clear enough to think straight, and the headache was fainter as it ricocheted inside his skull.

Shifting, the most movement he’s made since morning, Zero sat up in a daze, blinking blankly around the bright fluorescent room. Outside he noticed it was dark behind the paper-thin blinds, yet the unnatural lighting in the hospital room kept the room too bright for it to feel like evening. An uncomfortable discrepancy, especially considering how he had fallen asleep during daylight with only a hazy recollection of the day, only serving to further his ongoing confusion.

“Lucid now?” A familiar voice pried, surprisingly gentle, despite the unhidden harsh edge it innately carried. Turning to face the voice, a bit delayed in his reaction due to the lingering effects of the sedation, Zero faced the stranger in the bed beside his own.

When he met his eyes to the other man’s soft green ones, a sudden intrusion of memories flooded in.

His roommate. Zero couldn’t recall his name, but he felt fondly in his recognition of him, even though their interactions were hazy to retrieve. 

Actually, not hazy; they were basically absent. All he knew was that this man was one he was familiar and friendly with.

“ _Barely_ lucid… god, my head feels like cotton.” He groaned, bringing his hand up to rub his temple, only to find the texture of soft gauze at his fingertips, bits of it snagging at his short jagged nails. “I… I was asleep for a while, but we met earlier today, right?”

The green hue of his roommate’s eyes darkened, in a melancholic transition that somehow made his next words seem despondent. “Yes, we’ve met. Do you remember me, Zero?”

The pressure to take away that undying anguish in his expression made Zero stressed to probe his memories for an answer that would sate his roommate.

“I remember… you… wrote something on my hand, I think?” Not even confident in his own foggy recollection, Zero knit his brow at the other man, as if silently asking for confirmation.

The other man let out a short sigh, almost in relief but not quite there just yet, at the sign of even a sliver of working memory in Zero’s head.

“Yes, I wrote my name down so you wouldn’t forget. The nurse put your IV back in but it should still be visible.”

Tilting his head down at his hand for confirmation, surely enough he found a name printed on the back of his palm in neat lettering, alongside his IV line buried deep into a superficial vein.

“Numin. Oh, that name does ring some bells.”

His roommate chuckled, albeit still tensed in the manner. “It should. You needed to be reminded of it quite a few times.”

With a couple blinks, Zero tore his eyes off the print on his hand to look up at Numin. “It’s weird, it feels like I met you years ago. Like the memories are so far back in my head that I have to focus to try and retrieve them. Did I really just meet you today? We didn’t have, like, a class together or anything?”

He ended his inquiry with a little cock of his head to the right, like an honest signal of innocent curiosity, and Numin consciously wondered if he was trying to be a little cute on purpose.

He stopped that thought right in its trail, though; since when does he think of others as _cute_?

“This morning, when you woke up for the first time since your accident, we met,” he hesitated, just slightly, remembering bitterly how badly Zero took this information last time, “you’ve been in a coma for several days now.”

Although there was an undeniable widening of Zero’s eyes in surprise, it quickly waned, as if the knowledge had awoken within him the fact he had heard that before. Nevertheless, his heart did start skipping a beat faster on the heart rate monitor, and Numin noticed Zero began biting his lower lip. Centered both above his top lip and below his bottom were two pierced holes, so Numin deduced that he must’ve had a habit of biting a lower lip piercing; although, regardless of its presence, Zero seemed to chew his lip anyway. Made Numin wonder if at some point he just got it pierced to have something to bite at.

“Ah. Yeah, I think I remember something about that.”

In his palm, Zero had a handful of his bedding’s blanket gripped tight, anxiously holding onto anything that could ground him. A sore pang clawed in Numin’s chest; he wished he could go over there again. Almost yearningly, he tugged gently at the handcuffs keeping him in place, a deep inner part of him imploring himself to just break it off again like last time.

“Is there anything else you remember?” Prying in order to keep his thoughts from getting him in more trouble, Numin looked back up to face Zero. He was sitting off the edge of his bed, fist still full of his paperthin hospital blanket, looking up in almost a bit of a daze. Numin couldn’t tell if it was because he was lost in thought trying to remember the events from earlier today, or if the Valium was still lingering a bit in his system. Nevertheless, it was enough of a daze to leave him oblivious to the slight drop of his hospital gown off one of his shoulders, exposing his collar bone, as well as a small written tattoo beneath it. In black lettering, it marked: ‘ _Print (“Hello World”)_ ’, a basic one-line computer program, leading Numin to infer he must know how to code.

Although placid, the exposed skin had that word bubbling back up into Numin’s mind again. _Cute_.

Was his face just hot or is he now blushing over the visible collarbone and that tattoo?

“I remember, you were talking to me, but I can’t recall what about,” Zero finally spoke up, breaking Numin’s distraction on his slightly exposed shoulder, and with his headspace back to reality Zero absentmindedly tugged his gown’s collar back up, none the wiser that Numin was growing red in the cheeks as he stared at it. 

As if to compose himself and continue on as if he wasn’t lost tracing his eyes on that soft skin beneath Zero’s gown, Numin swallowed, continuing the conversation.

“We talked about a handful of things. None of them come to mind?”

Blinking thrice, Zero looked down from the ceiling back at him. “Maybe, I don’t know…”

Awkwardly, his fumbled with the slack of blanket in his hand, crumpling it anxiously. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… did you say something about being gay?”

Startled, Numin let out an unexpected laugh, amused as Zero’s bashfulness to address it.

“Bisexual, but yeah. You got the gist of it.” And, almost teasingly, he added, “Seems like you made that information top priority to recall. Are you always that good at remembering sexual orientations, or am I just special?”

Adding fuel to the fire of Zero’s embarrassment, now he was the one blushing. However, keeping his usual front, he managed to bite back with his own quip, despite the rouge color of his face betraying his actual thoughts.

“I don’t often forget when an interesting man tells me he likes men.” As if in an effort to divert the subject matter, he continued, “besides that… I think I remember you being here?” 

He made a pat to the side of the mattress, on the bed where Numin had sat with him during his anxiety attack. And although he didn’t remember too clearly the details to which Numin was beside him, Zero does recall a warming comfort. Even if the actual memory was absent, it left a fond afterglow, and even through the frightening awareness of his amnesia he felt the sentiment they must’ve held.

“I was. Got in quite the bit of trouble, too.” Numin agreed, with a sigh, dejectedly giving his handcuffs another clank. As if maybe they’ll just phase through the bar if he moved them enough.

Regardless, they were symbolic anyways. If Numin wanted to keep out of anymore trouble at this point, he’ll have to allow the cops to have their illusion of control over him.

Even if that’s all it was. An illusion.

“If… if it’s proper to ask, what are you here for?” Meekly, Zero gestured vaguely at the hospital room around him. He’s never been detained before himself, and he wasn’t too sure if it was an appropriate question to ask.

But instead, Numin offered a little shrug, nonchalant.

“Shot in the forearm. Very minor surgery to remove the shards, but it didn’t do any major damage.”

The casualness of his tone threw Zero off, and he gave the other man a noticeable wide-eyed look.

“You were shot!?”

The shock in his tone made Numin chuckle. The cavalier nature he had about his injury was unnatural, like violence was something he found ordinary and injury was something he found unthreatening.

“Yeah, cop tried handcuffing me, so I stabbed him in the stomach,” at that, he made a gesture to with his free hand towards his own abdomen, lightly tapping below his ribs as if to indicate where the cop had taken his knife before continuing, “but the bastard was able to reach for his gun and got a shot in before I knocked it out of his hand.”

Still appalled, Zero blinked thrice in bewilderment, as if trying to process the exact capabilities Numin had. The energy he had was commanding and all-consuming, and it seemed he was way more than just a front in that regard.

“What... happened to him?” Zero barely managed to get out on the border of a whisper, quiet in almost a careful way, in case this was a question that could provoke a negative reaction.

Hearing the breathless nature of his question, Numin drew a toothy and predatory smile. The look of it almost seemed like he was reminiscing on fond memories, but his green eyes were festering with a darkness that betrayed a more sadistic delight to his face.

“Dead. I shouldn’t have even let him live long enough to get a shot in. Disgusting little maggot...” the last part of his sentence road his vocals on almost a growl, with each word dripping with abhorrence.

It sent a chilling shiver down Zero’s spine. 

Aggression and violence wasn’t a surprise from his roommate, not in the slightest considering his demeanor. But something about the idea of actually killing someone, taking a life and having no regret, was absolutely bone-chilling.

There was a soft voice in the back of Zero’s head, warning him if his acquaintance with this man was dangerous. It begged him to withdraw from the conversation, to stop entertaining his roommate lest he accidentally got on his bad side. However, there was an even louder voice fighting that reasoning, and drawing him to continue.

It was at first terrifying to learn Numin had murdered someone. A deep, unsettling seed of knowledge that is now embedded into Zero’s brain, and it felt like he was watering the seed with every passing moment he dwelled on that unnerving idea. And as with any seed, it grew, and changed, and the more Zero thought about it the more his feelings about it were fuzzier than originally anticipated.

And after dwelling on it for a few moments, Zero can’t exactly lie that the idea wasn’t now also alluring, interesting in a way he can’t describe. Like a mixture of morbid curiosity to know more, with the knowledge it was bad to be interested but undeniably being drawn to it nonetheless.

His roommate had murdered someone.

And somehow, he wasn’t afraid of Numin for it.

“Is that what you’re in trouble for? Stabbing a cop to death?”

As if intrigued by Zero’s lack of fear, instead finding just shock and interest, Numin narrowed his eyes curiously, holding his dark smile. But it was no longer in glee to his lurid memories, instead it was in growing fascination for Zero’s interest.

“He was arresting me for something else, but his death is added onto my charges at the moment. However, my civil defender said something about being able to claim he shot me first and I stabbed in self-defense, but that’ll be a tough story to sell.” There was a taste of annoyance in his tone, as if reluctant to peddle the idea of being shot first before stabbing the cop. As if it strangled his pride too much for his liking, that he would allow another to harm him first.

Or, perhaps, that he would allow another to dare harm him at all.

“Wait, so he was already arresting you for a different crime at the time?” Suddenly, as if the thought of more charges was an alien concept, Zero’s eyes noticeably widened at his revitalized surprise.

Unbeknownst to him, it left another doe-eyed astonished look on his face— albeit still probably due to the lingering drug— that had a bit of warmth suddenly rising to Numin’s cheeks again, subtly but still nonetheless present through a hazy rouge ghosting his complexion.

_Cute_. He couldn’t tell if he hated himself for thinking that word at all or if the feeling was just frustration from yet again noticing how attractive he thought Zero was. Either way, the surfacing of that word bothered him.

Numin hadn’t the slightest clue why he couldn’t quite shake the idea from his train of thought. The idea that Zero was being cute right now.

“Yeah. I was being arrested for a separate murder charge at the time, so I thought, hell, what’s another?” Although there was a jesting tone in his voice meant to convey a bit of humor, the tension he was carrying found itself laced among his words and inwoven with his expression. Tension only aggravated by the newfound evasiveness Numin’s eyes took on.

Zero noticed the reddish hue on his roommate’s face now. A quick smirk rose onto his lips before he stifled it, killing it as fast as it was born— he’ll pretend he doesn’t notice, but he’s well aware that Numin _knows_ he definitely did.

“Makes sense. What’s one when you can have two.” Despite the topic at hand currently being murder victims, Zero continued with a cadence that was surprisingly cavalier. Guess when someone is noticeably blushing and growing a bit hot and bothered when they’re speaking to him it really takes the fear out of talking to someone with possible murder charges. After all, a cold hard murderer showing a bit of sheepishness like a nervous teenager talking to their classroom crush?

Oh, dare Zero even think— it might be a bit _attractive_.

Someone so calloused and violent, coming undone ever so slightly in his presence. Even if the undoneness was painted in just a faint blush of attraction on the other’s face, or slight tenseness in their words.

It made Zero feel a bit special, in a way.

“Two? Ah, I forget how many, but it’s well over two.” Although still collecting himself a bit, breaking his eyes back down to his handcuffs as if to hide the unspoken redness in his face, Numin’s voice composed itself with his next line, as if more thought would distract him from that word he kept trying to ignore whenever he looked at Zero. “Definitely more than two, it’s maybe… Maybe around a dozen or so? Although however many I’m charged with is beyond me. I’m certain the cops aren’t aware of all of them.”

The shock momentarily got to Zero for a split second, just at the sheer number. Or perhaps the shock was over Numin not even knowing the exact count; both were equally something to raise his brow in surprise at.

“Damn. Well, spoiler alert, I’m not here for murder myself.” After saying so, the memory of the officer pounding at his apartment door over an arrest warrant bubbled up into his consciousness, giving him an involuntary shiver when it popped at the surface.

Like old film flickering in his head with how vague and out of focus the memories were, he felt it more so than saw it.

Pain zipping up and down his back as he was knocked to the floor. Frail legs desperately kicking to keep the officer off of him. Hard boot connecting with his temple once, and the world darkening as everything slips away for a split moment into sheer pain and confusion. The second kick he doesn’t remember, but only assumes must’ve hit him after those memories cut short, hitting a blank wall as the world around was stolen away from him.

Unexpectedly, he noticed his mouth was a bit drier than a moment before.

“Come to think of it… I-I’m not all too sure what I’m arrested for, exactly.”

There was an unsteady shake in those words. Numin felt that deep part in his chest ache for him again, and without even thinking there was an audible jingle as he tugged the handcuffs yearningly again, subconscious desire turning into subtle action.

He wished he wasn’t confined.

“You can’t remember?” Softly, despite the gruffness of his voice, Numin verbally acknowledged Zero’s amnesia again.

Giving a weak half-hearted shrug, Zero blinked twice blankly, as if his eyes were focused on an absent memory. Or, at least the spaces where a memory may have been.

“I don’t know if I can’t remember or if I never knew in the first place. It’s weird, but somehow… even when I think I forgot something, I have the feeling that the information was once there.” A couple more blinks calibrated his eyes back to the dull hospital room around him, before continuing. “Like I noticed that I can’t recall your name again. Although for certain, I’m sure I’ve been told it more than once.”

The start of a weak and curious frown ghosted Numin’s lips. “Do you remember where to find it?”

There was another nervous bite on his bottom lip from Zero. Hesitant, as if taking a fifty-fifty shot at where he could possibly find his roommate’s name, he shakily raised his hand and checked the back of it.

And sure enough, confirming his hunch, there was a name in neat lettering there.

“Ah, the name Numin does ring a bell.”

His roommate chuckled deeply. “You said that last time.”

Tossing a perked brow up at him, Zero narrowed his eyes playfully. 

“Well, then… let’s hope this time it’s louder bells.”

He ended his own retort with a slight chuckle of his own, almost distracted enough to not notice when the door opened for a nurse to hurry in. Numin recognized him as the one who injected the Valium into Zero’s veins this morning, and the viridescent hue of his eyes turned stygian and dark in bitter spite towards a particularly guilty party who Numin saw at blame for this morning’s fiasco.

“Oh-- Mr. Novem, I didn’t expect you up.” Tense, perhaps giving a few cautious glances at Numin to ensure he was still properly restrained, the nurse made his way for Zero’s bedside, only to have his patient narrow his eyes at him in distrust and sit up tensely in his bed, body language insinuating that his memory still recalled the face of who injected Valium into his veins earlier today.

Or perhaps, it was less of the memory of who Anderson was, and more of the innate emotion that seeing him evoked. Not a name, nor face, nor even incriminating action to seed a taste of discontent on Zero’s tongue when he saw the man; rather, it was a raw and visceral recoil, like how one would instinctively recoil from a bee’s sting before they had even realized they have stepped upon one.

Simply put, it was a knee-jerk reaction, memoryless by nature. Yet, the reaction his mind and body naturally had towards the nurse told Zero enough of the story; he was not a friend, nor was he one to be trusted.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would’ve liked not dealing with me for a few more hours, huh?” Leveled as to not betray enough defiance that could warrant another injection, Zero hissed at the nurse ever so begrudgingly.

A few flecks of guilt surfaced in the nurse’s soft umber eyes, uncensored and uninhibited. They gave his patient a genuine look of remorse that both Numin and Zero were surprised to see.

“My apologies for this morning. Things were, um, out of hand… in more ways than one.” Despite him reaching for Zero’s chart and making a few routine recordings of heart rate and alertness, the actions seemed more methodical and habitual rather than cold. “You had sustained quite a bit of damage from your arrest. Your coma was expected to last much longer, and finding you awake and lucid in addition to your roommate being unrestrained probably wasn’t the best atmosphere. The sedation was a tragic necessity to get things under control.”

Audibly in the background, Numin scoffed. But, perhaps in a more complacent state of mind considering his physical circumstances, Zero leaned more towards the believability of Anderson’s words— at least, if only noticeable by the slight release of tension knitting his brow in distaste.

He decided to entertain that the nurse was being truthful. At least, because he had no memories to contradict Anderson’s story of how this morning went.

“How long was I out for?” Inquiring through a hesitant tone, as if to attempt to gauge how serious the nurse actually was on his remorse, Zero pried for some answers. 

Or, at least he tried to, if Numin didn’t interject almost immediately.

“A few days. I told you earlier already.” As if they were the only two in the room, Numin shot Zero a stern look, conveying a level of seriousness and intimidation in the darkness of his eyes that wasn’t quite there a moment before in their lighthearted words. And, nestled in the shadows of that darkness was a condensation to the nurse; he wasn’t even going to grace the guilty party with recognition, instead speaking only to Zero.

“A-ah, so have I been… under arrest? I’m not handcuffed to the bed like he is.” Words feeling thick and off balance on his tongue, Zero stuttered them out gracelessly, but not out of meekness to the nurse’s presence; he was instead nervous from the obvious cue from Numin that he wasn’t to continue addressing the nurse. 

And, without even looking in his direction, Zero could feel the cold darkness in Numin’s eyes bearing down on him, festering in what the best case scenario is frustration, and worse case anger.

Noting the atmosphere himself, the nurse seemed meek to pique up. It took a few moments before he could muster to.

“You’re temporarily detained, not technically arrested. Your injuries and coma seemed severe enough to not warrant restraints, but if you pose a danger to others or a risk of escape—“ he made a curt yet polite nod towards Numin, signaling his example, “— then, you may also be handcuffed as well.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Guess I’m not complaining, then.” Zero replied back, albeit without complete presence in his own words. There was an obvious distraction hovering over his cadence, perhaps a voice inside him asking if the questions were worth Numin’s irate stare burning through his skin.

“It’s for the better. Honestly, if I’m being level with you, your charges might even be dropped.” Continuing the conversation between short scribbles and readings he was recording, Anderson’s nerves seemed to have ironed out a bit. Perhaps the reality of Numin being confined was comforting. Perhaps the irate glances being the most hostility he was expressing reassured him.

Zero could only guess the nurse has seen him in quite a rage state to be so initially cautious.

“Dropped? Dropped how? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what my charges even are.” His words were strained, their delivery being just a bit faster than his previous reply, exposing his underlying urge to hear what he was actually arrested over.

Anderson peaked an eyebrow in slight surprise, looking over his clipboard of vitals and notes at his patient. 

“You were charged with cyber crimes for breaching the Cray Incorporation’s computers. I don’t know the details, but I’ve been told it’s not exactly a grave offense,” there was a gentleness in his eyes, softening a bit in sympathy, “but, due to the brutality of your arrest and the injuries you sustain, I’m no lawyer but… I don’t exactly see the charges going through.”

A short catch of his breath exposed Zero’s relief and surprise— he honestly didn’t even register his hack as major enough to even be noticed, let alone criminalized.

“Finally, some words from you that have actual meaning: _you’re no lawyer_. So why don’t you stop talking to him and stringing him along on these guideless assumptions?” Sharply, like the irritation towards Zero was being snuffed out and instead ignited onto Anderson, Numin diverted his attention.

Zero blinked, taken aback but also secretly relieved he was no longer under those threatening eyes.

“I-I’m just saying, that’s what it looks like at the moment. Were you even aware of his charges, Mr. Belua?” Without much confidence underlying his reply, Anderson noticeably tightened his grip on Zero’s chart sheepishly. Nevertheless, his dominant hand still continued their short and purposeful scribbles, as if to hide the idea his nerves around Numin may be preoccupying him.

The restrained, dangerous man chuckled. Zero has never heard someone laugh with both darkness and irritation enveloped together, intertwining in an unnerving way as to coax goosebumps from those who heard. Surely enough, confirming with a quick glance, some bumps were already decorating Zero’s exposed forearms.

“Doesn’t matter what he was charged with. I knew it wasn’t a violent crime, that’s for sure.” Giving his chained fist a quick pound against the bed’s side rail to rattle his handcuffs, Numin made both a show of his aggression and a show of his containment. Nevertheless, there was a bit of a sadistic gleam in his eyes that Zero saw, a noticeable delight Numin took when the poor nurse jumped at his threateningly loud hit against the side rail.

“You know, those handcuffs aren't just for my protection-- they’re for _his,_ as well.” Anderson gestured to Zero, pen still in hand as he pointed, before turning to said patient. “I’m sure for your consideration, you might want to hear he’s a danger to his roommates. He put his last one in the ICU.”

“Don’t you dare!” Numin growled, straightening up in his bed but unable to do anything more than yank threateningly at his cuffs. 

“W-what are you talking about?” Zero squeaked back at Anderson, almost meekly at the news.

“I’m talking about why he was put with you. We put him with a comatose patient on purpose… He kept breaking out of his restraints and assaulting the other ones.”

“Because they were _disgusting_! I couldn’t stand to listen to anything that came out of their worthless mouths!” Numin nearly shouted back, seething with so much irate that it dripped off each syllable like venom. His unshackled hand came down to grab the side rail that he was cuffed to, tightening around the metal in a white-knuckled grip, and he gave another violent shake that sounded close to breaking it. The jarring noise of it made Anderson drop his chart, recoiling with a startled step back.

“Mr.Belua, calm yourself or I’ll have to call in the head nurse.”

“You want me fucking calm!? Then get out of here! I’ll rip your tongue out if you wanna stay and keep talking!” Like an animal in a cage, he thrashed savagely, clanging the handcuffs around in his fit. The bed rattled with it, loud and unnerving, hinting his threat was going to be fulfilled if Anderson dared stay any longer.

Even though the words weren’t even directed at him, Zero found himself curling up nervously, tucking his knees under his chin and holding onto his legs like a surrogate security blanket. Whether between the room’s atmosphere or his surfacing anxiety, the wound on his head throbbed deep with his heart rate, fast and heavy. The air was getting too thick to breath in smoothly.

Weirdly enough, that tone and anger reminded him of his father.

Even the nurse seemed shaken. His eyes only parted off Numin to make a glance at his clipboard and pen on the floor, rethinking his decision to aggravate such an infamous patient. Although it only took a few mere seconds, the racy thoughts in his head to finish his rounds and leave this room was apparent on his face. A few beads of sweat made a constellation of fear on his brow, and rather than make a deal out of this and call in the head nurse, he decided to pretend this didn’t happen. 

After all, if worse comes to worse, he didn’t want Numin breaking loose; Anderson already knew he could. And he didn’t want to be the guilty party who had provoked him.

Without much other words, Anderson gave a sorry glance at Zero, before reaching for the chart on the ground. After hastily clipping on the pen and returning it to Zero’s bed post, he turned heel and left, stumbling slightly in his hurry and shutting the door quickly behind him.

It took Zero a few moments before he realized his body was shaking.

He could hear Numin’s quick, frustrated breaths from across the room. Almost like the breathing of a wolf about to growl. Like an impending attack was coming, that maybe if he stayed still and quiet he could avoid. Meekly, Zero slouched into himself, as if trying to not be there.

He’s used to not being there. He’s used to trying to pretend not to exist. If his dad has taught him anything, it was that.

Numin didn’t say a word. Just kept breathing, deep and upset. Angered.

Zero wanted to remember something about his roommate to trust. To fall back on as reassurance that this man wouldn’t vent his anger upon him now that the nurse is gone.

But aided by his anxiety, his memories all seemed distant and fuzzy.

His head was pounding. 

All he could feel right now was fear for him. It felt like his father across the room. It felt like that was the last time he had been sober and so afraid of someone before. 

“Zero. Are you okay there?”

It was Numin speaking, anger still laced in those words but concern still surfacing. Yet it wasn’t his voice Zero heard.

It was his father’s.

“Say something. P-pl…” hesitating, as if reluctant to cede his pride, the voice dropped an octave lower before continuing, “p-please, just say something, Zero.”

It sounded like his father’s voice. Not him, not Numin-- It was his father.

The memories burned in his head, blistering with the searing pain of his headache. He can’t remember this roommate. For whatever reason, in this godforsaken bright white room, he only remembers his father.

A few sparse tears beaded his lashes, barely held back from rolling down his hot red face.

“Please… I-I didn’t mean to scare you, just… Just tell me you’re okay, Zero.”

The words didn’t even register.

Zero was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for some father son backstory...
> 
> the next chapter might be getting pretty dark, so I hope I have the audience for it. Let me know what you guys are unwilling to see/triggered by for consideration, in case I need to tone some things down.


	6. Forget-me-not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Numin's outburst, Zero is hesitant to trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like italic flashbacks, so flashbacks are indicated by this grey. Hope you guys enjoy!

“Mommy loved you so very much. But she’s in heaven now, Zee.”

That’s what he always said. Whenever asking any question about her, albeit vague, that was always the first thing his father would tell him. And it used to be just that, that she loved him, but she wasn’t here anymore.

Of course, as Zero got a bit older he got more details.

One time when he was five his father slipped up.

“Your mother had so much love. She loved you both so much.”

Little Zero would ask who, but his father wouldn’t answer. Before he turned six, he started opening up a bit more. By then he used to have a few glasses of whiskey at night during dinner. Sometimes if Zero had a nightmare in the middle of the night he’ll find his father’s room empty, only to find him passed out on the couch in the middle of a glass and halfway through a bottle he had started earlier that night.

“Before you were born, mommy thought she was going to have a daughter. You had an older sister, but she never got to be born, and it made mommy very sad.” 

That was the first time he explained the miscarriage to him. Zero still remembers the stink of whiskey on his breath when he did.

“And after you were born mommy felt even sadder for your sister. So mommy went to keep her company in heaven, so I can keep you company here.”

The concept was too abstract for an almost eight-year-old to grasp. It was barely a few weeks shy of his third birthday when his mother overdosed on barbiturates in the bathroom; Zero himself had no memories of her. He didn’t remember how she would cry and shake late at night when he was an infant, his colicky cries contrasting the image of her perfect little daughter she had lost. Eventually migraines started to sprout up, and the doctor said it was just the baby blues; a little postpartum depression because she wanted her daughter so bad that she came up with a fanciful image of her in her head, an idealistic child that she now missed in her life. And having Zero, a preemie son who cried a little too often, provided too vivid of a contrast to her perfect nonexistent daughter.

It only made his mother yearn for her miscarried daughter even more.

That doctor who diagnosed her was the same who prescribed her the barbiturates for her migraines, and to help her sleep through his god-awful crying. It was that same prescription she killed herself with a few years later.

“She loved Zara so much. She felt bad that you didn’t have your older sister, and it ate her up inside.” Was a nice way his father put it.

His mother couldn’t stand that he was a nightmare of a child when she could’ve had her dream daughter just earlier that year. They had a name picked out, they had fuzzy yet promising ultrasound pictures and the bright pink gender reveal party already, but a few weeks shy of her third trimester she slipped off a chair when she was reaching to clean the tall narrow windows they had in their living room. All she had wanted was a clean, beautiful home to prepare for the birth of her first child, and against the advice of her husband she piled up her chore load rather than lightened it. It just took that one, ill-forsaken stretch of her arm with the duster to try and reach the top rim of the window’s crowning, and her newfound weight toppled her off the chair.

She lost the pregnancy.

After that, from what Zero gathered, she became an inconsolable mess.

And so maybe that was why his father pushed so hard for Zero to be their missing daughter. Instead of throwing out all the baby clothes they have purchased, they only got rid of the ones that explicitly said ‘girl’ or ‘princess’ on them. It wasn’t uncommon for a baby picture of Zero to be him in a pink shirt or flowery headband, grabbing aimlessly into the air and spit bubbles rolling down his chubby little cheeks. The room his cradle was in was still painted in a light soft lavender, however as an afternote to make it fit better for his gender his father later bought cartoon dinosaur decals and pasted them all across the walls. 

Maybe it was enough for his father, but his mother couldn’t get past it.

“Zee, you would’ve made your mother so happy if she could see you, you know that?” One night his father said to him, in between a sip of bourbon as he watched Zero put away his toys for bed. “You know what mommy would’ve liked? Come here, I’ll give you a present.”

By age seven Zero was used to having his father get progressively more and more drunk in the evenings, and it wasn’t uncommon at this point to sometimes hear him cry and shout in drunken frustration in the living room. Those nights, Zero always stayed up real late, shaken from hearing his dad shout and sob his heartbreak out, not old enough to understand depression. All he knew was the shouting terrified him, and he always stayed in his room when his father got like that.

But his father wasn’t at a shouting level of drunkenness yet, instead he was in the fond and doting phase he usually entered before, in a sloppy transition between tipsy and drunk that left him overly affectionate in a way even little Zero could tell was unnatural.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary to Zero at the moment, not yet anyway. And so he followed his father into his bedroom, pushing up on the unmade bed to get atop it as his dad instructed while his father fished through the drawers for the promised present.

When he turned around, he had a shiny silver necklace in hand, with a small angel figurine dangling at the end.

“Tada!” With a dramatic flourish and a slight drunken slur, his dad fastened the rather feminine necklace around Zero’s neck.

With a naive cock of his head, confused but curious, Zero picked up the silver figurine and examined it with very much untrained eyes, noticing a professional etching of the name Zara across the angel’s wings.

His face scrunched up in childish ingratitude that this present, like so many things he has grown up with, was another hand-me-down from his dead sister.

Perhaps, in a rather rude way that any other seven-year-old might act in, Zero yanked the necklace off, unknowingly breaking the latch as he offered the necklace back to his dad with a pout.

“My name isn’t Zara. Mommy didn’t want me to have this.”

Even in the vapid gaze the liquor had cast over his father’s dark green eyes, a few flecks of confusion dotted them, before slowly gathering into anger in his delayed cognition of his son’s rejection. Perhaps, with his reasoning diluted by drink, he didn’t realize how hard his palm came down to smack the broken jewelry out of his son’s hand.

“Of course she didn’t! What you just broke was _Zara’s_ necklace!” 

At the sudden contrast from doting to livid, Zero meekly recoiled from the harsh smack on his hand and cradled it within his other, digging his heels vainly into the mattress beneath him to distance himself from his father’s drunken anger.

“I-I didn’t mean to break it--” he squeaked, as his father roughly grabbed onto him by the ankle to yank him back close.

“It wasn’t _supposed_ to be for you. Why couldn’t you have been her? You know how much you broke your mother’s heart!?” closing the space the young boy was desperately trying to create between them, his hand left Zero’s ankle and gripped the boy’s face between his thumb and forefinger, using them to pull his gaze up at him. 

Being so close to his father, the vile reek of alcohol radiated with each breath. Shaking, kicking back his feet but unable to release himself from the grip, Zero squeezed his eyes shut as a few hot tears began to roll over his cheeks.

“You’re the reason your mother is dead! Do you hear me, Zee? You _killed_ your mother!”

Perhaps his father meant to give him a pop on the mouth, an open hand hit with the tips of his fingers that stricter parents may give their more unruly children. But, his senses dulled and his anger misjudging his strength, his father ended up sending the hard end at the bottom of his palm into Zero’s cheek.

The rest of that night got blurry after that. 

Although, if there was only thing he remembered, it was hours later curled up in his bed.

Eyes red and puffy from sobbing, an early bruise of a blackeye beginning to ghost the space beside his cheekbone, Zero trembled in his father’s arms as he was slowly sobering up.

“I’m sorry, Zee. I-I didn’t mean to scare you…”

That voice sounded familiar.

“Please… I-I didn’t mean to scare you, just… Just tell me you’re okay, Zero.”

With a blink, he realized he was in his hospital bed.

A dull ache throbbed beneath the bandages around his temple, and the bright white lights seemed to encourage it. The distance beep of his heart rate monitor was erratic, tempo fast and anxious, but aiding in his awareness of his surroundings. The memory of his father faded, at least from reality around him, but left an imprint of fear upon its departure.

“I-I’m fine.” In a breathless huff, Zero blinked off a few gathered tears and turned to face his roommate.

For a second, those dark green eyes looked hauntingly familiar, the way lingering anger mixed with concern.

“You don’t look fine.”

Sucking in air between his teeth, Zero pushed his palm up against his bright red cheeks to wipe away a few tears, embarrassed.

“Yeah. Well, we’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours and I’ve already cried in front of you like, what, three times? Maybe I’m a little not fine.” Stabilized a bit more once he had grounded himself back to the world around him, retreating mentally from all those horrible memories, his standard sarcastic demeanor began to slowly resurface. Tensely, he sighed and bit into his bottom lip, buying a few seconds before continuing, “after all, my head is split open and my memories are about as reliable as my printer at home. So yeah, probably not very fine at all. God, I need a drink.”

Strained, perhaps a bit forced as to try and prevent some of his residue anger at the nurse being misdirected, Numin chuckled in a stiff manner.

“Alcoholic, are we now?”

On a shaky exhale, Zero shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Cocking his head to the side, Numin clicked his tongue.

“Aw, daddy issues?” There was a teasing tone in it, by no means genuine sympathy, but also by no means intending actual offense or harm. 

“Something like that. But at least I don’t backhand people after I’ve downed half a bottle.” 

Numin nodded, faux understanding and sympathy still lacing his teasing responses.

“Of course. Mature people learn to sob their emotions out with booze, not assault people.” Numin’s sarcasm at Zero’s expense oddly enough earned a humored smirk on the smaller man’s lips, momentarily.

“Agreed. One might say assaulting people is immature in general, booze or not.” Quipping back at Numin’s expense now, he tested the waters to gauge whether his anger was truly just directed at the nurse, or if poking fun at Numin would earn him some reignited rage.

But instead of rage, his remark earned him a much more genuine sounding chuckle.

“Perhaps, but not if the people had it coming.”

Zero knit his brow at that, curious.

“Did your last roommates ‘ _had it coming_ ’, as you put it?” Although he kept the same cadence of their conversation as if it was still lighthearted, there was an underlying weight his question carried, transpiring in little mannerisms that unveiled his nerves. Another little bite at his bottom lip, as he often did nervously when he didn’t have his lower lip piercing in. A slight tension of his posture, straightening up ever-so-slightly out of a formerly more relaxed slouch.

That dark gleam resurfaced in Numin’s piercing green eyes, inciting a gaze that haunted his expression in what Zero could only declare sinister. More so, when his eyes took on such a look, that innate power he evoked was tangible in the air once more, weighing on the atmosphere as a reminder that he was an ungodly force Zero had just questioned.

“Yes. They had it coming. They were utterly disgusting maggots who are lucky I didn’t just take their lives.” There was a twitch of his lip, unsteady but stifled, as if he had meant to smirk but held it back lest he appears sadistic. “But, I have charges on me already, so I held back. Didn’t need another manslaughter charge.”

For a moment, Zero wondered if Numin could tell he was holding his breath while listening to him speak. Such an all-consuming tone overpowered the air when he spoke like that, without even raising his tone. There was something so unnatural when he took on that demeanor, as if he was a god speaking on irrelevancies with a human. 

After a hesitant swallow, Zero breathed again.

“What did they do?”

Intrigued Zero even mustered a response, Numin straightened up, shifting to face him more properly as much as his handcuffs allowed.

“You don’t need to worry, Zero. You would know if I was a danger to your safety.”

It was an odd way to say he wasn’t going to hurt him, but Zero was taking what he could get at this point.

“If you were, how exactly would I know?” Although he meant to sound more confident, a taste of meekness still met his words on his tongue.

Nonchalant, as if invoking once more the savagery of a wild animal barely being contained, he shook his wrist to give his cuffs a jiggle. “If I was, I would be out of these restraints and you would already be in the ICU with them.”

Perhaps he noticed immediately the concerned look on Zero’s face, and clarified.

“I mean you no harm, Zero. Do not be afraid.”

Zero recalled somewhere that angels command humans to not be afraid because their eldritch appearance is terrifying to the eyes of those alien to the divine. It makes him wonder if demons and devils would do the same, since there was an atmosphere about Numin that was anything but sacred and holy-- but, oddly enough, divine felt accurate to call it.

Perhaps it was of the nature of any almighty creature trying to get a weaker one to yield trust. Commanding them to not be afraid might just be the only thing they can do.

“How do I know that, Numin? How can you prove you mean me no harm?”

For a moment, Numin narrowed his eyes, almost in a manner that made it seem he didn’t quite have solid proof that he was anything but untrustworthy. Zero watched on, bated to hear anything from him that would lend a hand to the idea he would do no harm. At first, maybe he thought he might bring up this morning, or maybe allude to their subtle flirting earlier as evidence he had fonder feelings than hatred for him.

And perhaps, Numin’s mind had wondered to the exact same idea, because Zero noticed that faint blush return to his tan complexion, and the darkness of those eyes waned into an evasiveness that appeared almost bashful.

Maybe that attraction was the proof. Zero couldn’t lie that it wasn’t a confidence boost, and that it was hard to quite fear someone so almighty and powerful sitting there and blushing at him.

But, when Numin opened his mouth, he threw a curveball.

“Come over to me.”

Startled, there was a physical drawback of Zero’s shoulders in surprise, and a doe-like widening of his eyes.

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m bound, you’re not. Come over here and you’ll see that even if you’re close, I’m not going to hurt you.” With a slight pause that Zero neglected to fill fast enough, Numin reached for another explanation, “Think of it as a trust fall.”

Blinking thrice in surprise, Zero was still appalled at the idea. Sure, nothing technically bound him except the IV line in his hand and heart sensors on his chest, but surely it can’t be as easy as just walking over to his bed like Numin had done to him this morning.

Except, it somehow was.

Perhaps even though his mind was still reeling from the absurdity of the suggestion, there was something in him that wanted it. Wanted to see what would happen. Wanted to do this ‘ _trust fall_ ’, as to say.

And, with a single glance down at the IV line buried in a superficial vein, he peeled back the medical tape over it and yanked it out by its plastic base.

Kicking his legs over the edge of the bed, there was a momentary hesitation, before he pushed off the sheets and took to his unsteady bare feet.

Two things he immediately noticed: one, his feet felt terribly cold on the floor. Two, his legs were surprisingly weak, but perhaps due to the lack of use for days on end in combination to his background haze of Valium still ghosting his bloodstream. Ergo, there was an obvious stumble as he took a gingerly step, bracing himself with a tethering hand to his bed frame to help support his weight.

Although his eyes were fixated onto the floor, watching carefully as he stabilized himself, Zero noticed Numin obviously tense as if he wanted to spring up to help when he stumbled, only to immediately hold back once remembering his cuffs.

“I’m good, I-I’m good-- I forgot I haven’t walked in a hot second, just give me a moment,” huffing, as if already out of breath, Zero rode through a short wave of lightheadedness. It’s been awhile since he’s gotten lightheaded, but he used to get it a lot back when he was anemic and would rise from a sitting or lying position onto his feet. Perhaps his thin frame and low weight didn’t help, but a diet that was mostly just cigarettes and liquor naturally led to iron-deficiency.

“Don’t push yourself,” Numin cautioned, in a surprisingly gruff voice that Zero could still somehow identify concern in. Maybe he’s gotten used to Numin’s very hard and callous demeanor that the note of care comes off as particularly sweet in comparison. Or perhaps, maybe it only seemed that way because Zero was trying to find it, internally wanting Numin to be the trustworthy roommate he was promising himself to be.

Swallowing like there was a rock in his throat, dry and hard, Zero refocused to take his mind away from those thoughts. It’ll be a cruel splash of cold water to his face if Numin truly wasn’t as benevolent as he was leading on to be. 

As if he hadn’t been walking for the last twenty-something years, Zero took another stumbling step forward, hating how his heart monitor was putting him on blast by beeping fast to match the tempo of his exacerbated heart. Grabbing a fistful of the wires leading into his gown, he pulled free the sensors, and yanked them out as the heart monitor let out a satisfying flatline beep.

Sounded better than that the constant beeping, in all honesty.

Free from any medical shackles-- being that the IV line and the heart monitor-- Zero finally made a more confident step, albeit wobbly. Too far to tether at this point, his stabilizing hand finally relinquished his failsafe grip onto the bed rail, and on his own he closed the few meter gap between him and his roommate. It took a few moments, but each step got a bit better, and by the time he was in arm’s reach from being able to grab onto Numin’s bed rail for stability, his gait had improved enough to not necessitate the aid.

“Slow down there, Bambi.” Numin teased, an amiable smile on his lips that looked unnaturally pleasant on his sharp features, like the disparity one would have from seeing a savage wolf smile. But, unnaturalness aside, it was a token of goodwill that Zero was grateful for, and willingly complied with his roommate’s wishes to play it a bit safer by resting a hand upon Numin’s bed rail. Although symbolic more so than necessary, it remained for his final few steps, stopped only when the edge of the Numin’s bed rested against his midthigh where he stood.

Admittedly, up close the smile on Numin’s face did appear more predatory, but perhaps that was just the aura to come with the flash of teeth like his. With canines surprisingly sharp, Zero couldn’t help but imagine them being capable of tearing out someone’s throat if he so desired.

Or leaving one hell of a hickey, perhaps.

Egging him to come even closer, Numin patted the mattress before him with his freehand, inviting Zero to sit.

For whatever reason, Zero couldn’t help but think of little red riding hood being enticed by a wolf dressed up before her, imploring the vulnerable girl to come closer to the bed in order to eat her up.

Maybe that danger was what made it thrilling to push himself up against the mattress and sit down to share a bed with the big bad wolf. And when Numin didn’t immediately lunge for the attack, Zero returned an awkward smile in wait, folding his hands in his lap as if he didn’t know what to do with himself if Numin wasn’t going to eat him.

A pale tinge of blush just barely tinted his expression, not sure what to say.

Those hungry eyes took in his features, pupils widening like a predator’s upon a fragile sheep. Tenaciously, they scanned him up close now, running laps from his soft yet bruised cheeks, to his pierced yet naked lips, and down to his exposed and vulnerable neck. The wolf looked to be sizing up what to sink his deadly canines into first, what piece of skin looked most appetizing for a sating meal. The blush upon Zero’s pale skin only served as garnish, and with each silent second passing that Zero watched those fascinated green eyes run over him he felt his blush darkening.

The hand not shackled down came up, faster than Zero could process before him, and gripped the slack of his hospital gown with an almighty pull. 

And then, exactly what he had predicted, the wolf devoured him. But not in a bite, of a feral tear of flesh or shed of blood; instead, Numin devoured him in an all-consuming kiss.

It was chaste and closed-mouth, yet filled with undeniable fervor. Zero yielded, allowing himself to fall prey, and be devoured by those powerful lips. It was as if he lost all sense of direction and charge, finding it so natural and soothing to let himself relax. That hand that was on the front of his gown softened, wandering up, calloused fingers feeling like rough sandpaper as they cup behind Zero’s bare nape with incredible tenderness. He would think a man like Numin wouldn’t know such gentle motions, yet here he was, surprising him yet again.

All he could do was run his hands up Numin’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the paper-thin hospital gown, and ending with a hold upon his broad shoulders as he let himself be devoured so deliciously.

When it broke off, after what could have only been seconds but had felt way longer from the spike of adrenaline lacing his excited body, Zero blinked twice up at the man before him, never noticing from afar that what he thought was darkness in those green irises was actually incredible depth and intricacies.

Zero felt a rumble through his hands where they met Numin’s shoulders, noticing his roommate let out a deep chuckle.

“One hell of a trust fall, wouldn’t you say?”

Amused, Zero cracked a smile.

“Yeah. Watch me forget tomorrow and you’ll have to kiss me all over again so I can remember.”

Far into the depths of those viridescent green eyes, something twinkled. 

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” and with that, he peppered a short kiss on Zero’s cheek, making sure to choose the one barely less bruising from the policeman’s attack.

How such a savage and dangerous man could be so gentle was a paradox that Zero would always be grateful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. Hopefully the 6th chapter isn't too early but I'm gonna start the romance train now.
> 
> Some _light_ smut in the next chapter. Or maybe not so light if y'all want something heavier? Leave in the comments below which you prefer c:


	7. Ephialtes Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero has an odd dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: light sexual content

Most people know their body and sleep patterns well enough, that they can predict certain things. Maybe they know what will make them sleepwalk, or give them nightmares. Maybe they know how to wake themselves up from a bad dream, or fall asleep within minutes of deciding it’s time for bed.

Zero never understood people who were really in tune to their sleep like that. Although he was broadly categorized as an insomniac, he learned that he could sometimes invite sleep sooner with a few shots of vodka. Or, it would keep him up later by encouraging him to have another round, but it wasn’t consistent which way the night would swing when he went to pour one out. However, if there was one thing Zero could guarantee about his sleep, it was that he got wet dreams when he was stressed.

Embarrassing, but true. Maybe it was his subconscious way of coping with stress. Makes sense why when he has a bad day nothing takes the edge off more than a night of drinks and going home with a stranger.

But, somehow, tonight’s dream was way more vivid than the usual.

The first part of the dream that really started being memorable was Numin pushing him aggressively up against a wall.

The room was dim and cold, and so was the wall behind him, but Zero’s lips were locked with Numin’s, and their bodies pressed up against each other provided a sweltering heat that kept him warm.

The place was familiar, and the second Zero spared a thought about it he realized they were in his apartment. Or maybe _their_ apartment? It felt like they lived together in this dream.

Broad, strong hands slid over his slender waist, teasing him as they stopped at his hip bones, and with a yearning whine Zero pressed his pelvis forward to invite those wandering hands behind him. With a dark chuckle, Numin pulled his tongue out of Zero’s mouth for a split moment, so he could watch his face as he aggressively grabbed his ass with both hands.

With a delight groan, Zero arched back into his grip, throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to ravish the feeling.

The hands underneath kept a firm cup under his bottom, and in a sudden motion Zero felt himself hoisted up, which he greeted with a short gasp of pleasant surprise. Almost naturally, his legs came up to wrap around Numin’s waist, steadying himself by a needy grasp encircling the larger man’s neck for support. Upon looking up, he saw some of the glint of light barely filtering into the room hit the bright canines of Numin’s devious smirk. 

Something about the way his teeth glistened threateningly felt as if Zero couldn’t tell if Numin was going to kiss into his neck or rip out his jugular between his incisors.

And before he could predict which one it would be, the beast rushed forward to devour his prey, and Zero couldn’t help the little noises escaping his throat as he felt those dangerous teeth leave a certainly inhibited bite on the skin between his neck and shoulder.

The idea of wearing a scarf of delicious bruises and hickeys from Numin’s mouth made his hip buck forward, grinding down on the man he was wrapped around. Almost as a reward, he felt himself rub over something firm and prominent, albeit muted from the barriers of fabric between them.

Eager to make his own excitement be known as well, Zero gave a rolling arch of his back, allowing his own erection to rub up against Numin‘s. And almost as if rewarding him, Numin gave a fervent suck of the stolen flesh between his teeth, not ceding until it tinged with a reddish hue. The tangible formation of that hickey made Zero whine needily under his mouth, only encouraging Numin’s ego.

Upon drawing back to admire his own work, he saw Zero’s mouth agape in carnal delight, and pale face flushed into a rouge hue. Heaving, still enraptured by the fresh bruises blessing his neck, Zero licked his bottom lip at him, carefully pushing the ring around it suggestively.

Entertaining him, the larger man tightened his grip around Zero, before pulling his hips down against his own to grind up into them. It earned a desperate cry from the smaller man, but he was in the mood to hear more from him than just incomprehensible noises.

“Say my name.” He commanded, voice husky and laced with an obvious note of his own enrapturement. The way that voice commanded the air sent a wave of goosebumps sailing over Zero’s skin, intoxicated by his deep and velvety tones.

Eager to comply, Zero’s mouth opened on a moan, ready to put his name on his lips-- until, he realized, he didn’t know his name.

A sudden embarrassed panic dropped in his chest, and he hoped it was too dark for the man to make out the obvious perturbation in his face. How could he forget the name of a man like this? 

“Zero. My name, say my name.” The voice commanded again, although less commanding and more… _monotone_ , this time. Like the texture of his vocal cords was getting lost in Zero’s fragmented memory.

“I-I don’t know, it doesn’t matter…” huffing, feeling the spike of adrenaline in his blood, he tried to wave it off and continue on with the more sexy details. 

Until those details weren’t there anymore. The hands on him stopped feeling hot, or even warm. It was getting too dark to even distinguish anything but a silhouette of the man before him.

What happened to the details?

“What’s my name? What’s my name, Zero?” This time the voice wasn’t just monotone, it was borderline inhuman. Like a bird spitting out sounds that it didn’t understand, mimicking words in pseudo-speech that treaded into the uncanny valley.

Regretting his position against the wall, Zero had no room to distance himself and he meekly unhooked his legs from the strange figure, stumbling a bit on his feet as he squeak back, “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know--”

The place where those hands made contact with him had noticeably lost its warmth; the man’s skin felt like ice, almost as if he had become a corpse. The creature holding onto him wasn’t even human at this point. The noises out its mouth were merging words like one big stream of sound, spitting out gibberish that was only vaguely understandable.

“My name, what’s my name? What’s my name, name, name? Zero, what’s my name? Name? What’s my name?”

Like a horrible interlude, it began just making noisy lip smacks and pops, like the mouth around those words were melting as it spoke, and it needed practice with it to accommodate. It babbled like its tongue was sticking to the roof of its mouth, like it was speaking with a gloopy mouth full of peanut butter. The outline of the figure got fuzzy, alike to the blurry details in a dark black-and-white photo or an out-of-focus polaroid, walking the line between being something to being nothing. Staring at the supposed edge of the silhouette didn’t help either, as it continuously yet slowly distorted beneath the gaze, at a rate slow enough that the perception felt more like vertigo than a sincere deformation of the figure. The growing pit at the bottom of Zero’s stomach twisted in nausea the longer he tried to discern its shape, dread swelling up in his chest and settling in all the wrong places.

He didn’t just forget the name; Zero couldn’t even remember the _face_ of who that creature was supposed to represent, and that failure of his memory reflected back to him through this eldritch simulacrum. Before him was the culmination of every vague and forgotten information lost from the individual it once represented. The silhouette was ever-changing, yet remaining a looming dark mass. The details of color, shape, or likeness had melted into the backdrop of darkness around it, and its only dimensional consistency was its lack thereof.

Worse yet, the simulacrum continued its mockery of speech once it had adjusted to its malformed mouth.

“What is my name. What is my name. What is my name—“

To call it a voice was unfitting, the words lacked any nature in their cords that could lead Zero to believe a living creature was making them. Even trying to imagine it was a creature producing them tinged the presence of metal in Zero’s mouth. The simulacrum, this vile _ephialtes_ invading his consciousness, spoke so uncanny that its words were stuck echoing in his ears, as if the garbled voice was ricocheting inside his own head.

“I don’t know! Just stop, please just stop…” Voice straining against the thick suffocating air, they sounded almost mute compared to the insistent repetition of the simulacrum. 

Then, as if the world was pulled out from under him, he felt a sudden drop out of this horrific rendition of reality, snapping back into the real world with such a speed that it felt like conscious whiplash.

Startled, he jumped, and in that moment he recognized the departure out of dreamland and into his body. Even though the sheets around him were light and airy, his skin felt hot and damp, and the first thing he became aware of was his sweat mending his back to the fabric beneath him.

The lights were dimmed. It was the middle of the night according to the plain white clock ticking softly above the door, contesting with his heart rate monitor between being the only noises in the room. Yet, their off-sync tempos almost made it seem as though they were complementary, somehow adding calmness to the room. Or, perhaps anything compared to that nightmare seemed like the epitome of tranquility.

Confused, he checked his hand, and surely enough noticed his IV line was taped back upon the poor vein it has been yanked from one too many times. And next to the IV printed in neat lettering was a name: _Numin_.

A sigh of relief escaped at the recognition of that name.

He was so certain he had forgotten. Actually, even now, he can’t remember the last interaction he had with Numin. After freeing himself from his medical shackles and shuffling over with a grace that rivals a toddler learning to walk, Zero didn’t remember much besides kissing his roommate.

A sudden color tinged his pale cheeks.

They kissed. That much, Zero is certain of-- even though his memory after said kiss got very butchered afterwards. On top of that, beside the certainty of said kiss existing, he was also positive that it was Numin who had grasped his hospital gown and pulled him down into it.

The color on his face intensified, waxing with every second he spent dwelling on that memory. 

They hadn’t just kissed; Numin _instigated_ the kiss. 

However, like a dismal cliffhanger at the end of a fantastic season finale, Zero drew a blank on what exactly happened next. Hell, he couldn’t even remember returning to bed and falling asleep. Did they spend the time fondly cuddling and sharing intimate thoughts on hushed, quiet breaths between themselves? Did they continue making out, before not really feeling into it and learning they didn’t have as much of a spark as once thought? Did they just flat out have sex last night?

Anything was on the table at this point, and Zero was prepared to play this scavenger hunt with his own memories. After all, it would be quite embarrassing to wake Numin-- whom Zero could tell was fast asleep from his sporadic snoring across the room-- and ask him what happened. Not only would it be embarrassing on Zero’s part, but what if his lack of recall of a potentially fond and intimate moment was a red flag to Numin that’ll make him recede his interest in a fresh amnesiac?

Sitting up, slow enough in case Numin was a light sleeper, Zero brought his hand up to the faint glow of the heart rate monitor to examine the IV line.

Despite the darkness of the room, the dim monitor light was just enough illumination to realize he didn’t even have the IV line in. Rather, it looked as if the medical tape was just tape back over the vein to hold the line in place, leading Zero to the relieving conclusion that a nurse hadn’t come in and interrupted them. Instead, it appears Zero himself probably taped the line down and planned on pretending to a nurse in the morning that it had fallen out of the vein during the night. After all, he didn’t have the original needle to insert the IV tube, and probably wouldn’t have the best idea on doing it both safely and believably.

Even though it was the plan of a forgotten consciousness, a soft smirk of pride ghosted his lips at the idea of taping the IV line down. Or perhaps, maybe he was just retrospectively grateful his former self even put an effort to hide the freed IV line at all, for Zero could completely see himself having a steamy night with an interesting man and going to bed without a care how conspicuous he appeared the following morning, consequences be damned. Said consequences would without doubt be sharing Numin’s state of handcuffed confinement, although unlike him Zero would sooner break his own wrist before successfully breaking out any cuffs.

Disrupting the line of thought to continue his own self-detective work, Zero carried on.

It only took an exploring hand snaking into his gown to tell that the stickers holding the heart sensors were also inexpertly returned to his chest. So more or less, he was checking all the boxes to at least appear at a glance like he had spent the whole night in his bed.

Now that he had confirmed his former consciousness had already established his alibi, his efforts redirected to figuring out what exactly happened after their kiss. Lucky for him-- although not as lucky for his liver-- Zero has had plenty of experiences deciphering a night he doesn’t remember from all the countless times he’s gotten blackout drunk. 

If there was anyone who would probably make a good amnesiac detective, it was Zero. That or every morning-after hangover investigation he had ever done would have all been in vain.

There was a bathroom door in the room, on the far side closer to Numin’s bed. If he could make it there, he could check if maybe he had a hickey or two that’ll allude to what he and Numin was up to a few hours prior. 

Zero couldn’t help a little smirk at the thought. After all, maybe Numin finally put those dangerous teeth to use.

Aside from a sly bite of his lip, exciting himself at his own thoughts, he made an effort to try and not let himself get carried away by his suggestive imagination.

Once again, he undid the taping on his hand to detach himself from the IV, and peeled off the sensors from his chest with a bit more care than his haphazard yank earlier. After pushing back the sheets that freely crinkled noisily amidst his stealth, Zero stole another glance up towards Numin, confirming he was still deep in sleep whilst he pushed smoothly off the bed.

Or at least, as smooth as he could over his still unadjusted feet. There were a few patters as he calibrated himself, the balls of his feet meeting the floor and dancing his weight back and forth between the two as if they just weren't landed on the floor quite right, before the muscles of his legs finally all synced together and kept him steady without feeling the need to constantly shift his weight. The sensation of jelly in his legs didn’t go away, but at this point it wouldn’t be a shocker if his head injury was compounding with his lack of coordination. Nevertheless, feet ready to be walking or not, Zero made his way towards the bathroom door as softly as he could to remain quiet.

Embarrassingly enough, the lack of adjustment showed in his gait, as it swayed unsteady and borderline on a stumble at points before evening out as best Zero could manage. Perhaps, what with his lack of an audience it was only embarrassing for himself, but it still brought a sensation of heat to his cheeks that made him that much more cautious to not wake Numin. 

But somehow his feet still found it’s way guiding him to the bathroom door, even if he walked with about as much confidence as a newborn deer. There was an auditable sigh of relief upon reaching the door, and completely ignoring the loud creak it made on its hinges, he hurried inside and flicked on the light.

The sudden brightness made him recoil, hands reflexively coming up to shield his unprepared eyes. After a series of squints and blinks, the room became perceivable, albeit a lackluster view what with the bland setup. The walls were a simple powered blue, and the sink and toilet the same porcelain white. Adjacent to the mirror above the sink was an automatic soap dispenser, the kind Zero remembers seeing at shops or restaurants bathrooms, generic for commercial use.

When his eyes laid on his own reflection, he gave a meek whimper at his face.

Adorning one side were the dark blots of bruises, discolored with greenish hues to suggest they were days old, trailing over the cheek of the side the cop had kicked mercilessly, and fading off slightly over his brow. Zero often had bags with his chaotic sleep schedule, but the dark puffiness beneath the eye on the more abused side looked much different than under-eye circles, instead it was more rounded and shiny in appearance. Never having a black eye before in his life, it almost turned his stomach to see one on his own face, even if one so minor in comparison to ones he’s seen on people before.

The gauze around his head was wrapped expertly and tight, with particularly thick padding above that sore spot on his head that wouldn’t stop throbbing. Worst yet, perhaps exacerbated by his recent activity, there was a tinge of bleed-through coloring the thick padding over his head injury, suggesting he had reopened the wound.

Lastly, and probably just as disheartening as the rest of his appearance, he bore no hickeys or bite marks over his neck. But after taking in his own reflection Zero almost doesn’t even blame Numin; he looked so battered and frail that it was no wonder the nurse was surprised he had woken from his coma so soon; it almost looked as if he had no right waking from his coma at all.

A dark, dismal drop sank deep into his hollow chest. He wasn’t in any state that even remotely screamed desirable. And while that was a silly thing to be worrying about at the moment, it was a major clue that things probably didn’t go anywhere exciting last night with Numin. 

In all honesty, Zero was surprised he was even interested in him enough to kiss him.

Dejected, and a bit over this whole detective game, he shuffled out of the bathroom pitifully, hunched over and over wishing he hadn’t gotten out of his bed to begin with. Yet, to his even sadder surprise, Numin appeared roused awake upon his exit from the bathroom.

Even though the half-lidded look upon his face suggested the lingering presence of sleep, Numin still offered a single raised brow at Zero, a silent question to what he was up to in the dead of night.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He offered sheepishly, almost phrased like an apology. Compared to only hours before, his demeanor had noticeably repressed, not even offering eye contact as he kept his downcast gaze locked on the powered blue vinyl lining the floor below.

“Doesn’t take much to stir me.” With a casual stretch, Numin replied with a cloudy tone, sleep still overtly overcasting his newfound wakefulness. “Can’t sleep very well? You don’t look rested.”

Offering a half-hearted shrug, Zero shifted to leaned against the closed door of the bathroom, having a bad feeling this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

“I slept some, just had a bad dream,” with a nod towards the bathroom he came from, he elaborated, “I figured I haven’t seen myself in the mirror since the incident so I got up to check.”

The delivery was shallow, as if meant to hide the deeper disturbance Zero held underneath to seeing his reflection. Enough so that Numin could note it, knitting his brow at the smaller man slouching meekly against the bathroom door, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Don’t like what you see?” Guessing, Numin straightened up, seemingly more alert at the notice of Zero’s perturbation.

Unintentionally confirming, he slouched in even more, wishing the darkness of the room was enough to hide his marred features.

“Nah, I’m absolutely thrilled with the bruised and bloody look.” Zero retorted, voice with a backbone of sarcasm, yet delivery surely missing a few vertebrae.

The corner of Numin’s lips just barely peaked, gauging the jest as a good sign. “You’re in the hospital for a traumatic brain injury and currently being detained for a felony cyber crime. But sure, your swollen eye is definitely your biggest problem right now.”

Reflexively at those words, Zero folded his arms around his chest tight, unintentionally emphasizing his thin, fragile-looking frame. 

“I’m not saying it’s my biggest problem. It’s just, I’m not exactly the fighting type, so this look is just…” hissing, as if he was trapped into finishing the sentence now, Zero struggled to pin down the correct adjective,“...it is just _unsettling_ , to me.” 

His anxieties were only met by a deep, reverberating chuckle from the larger man, who only seemed amused. “Guess I’m just used to seeing people bruised and bloody.” Numin shrugged before looking up, but upon noticing the red glow of embarrassment adorning Zero’s face, a deep part of him stirred in discomfort.

Before he had even realized, his tone took on a much different tenor as new words suddenly found their way on his tongue, that deep part of him yearning to diminish that disheartened look on Zero.

“The black eye will fade in about a week and a half. And your bruising has already turned green so I’d give it another five days, seven tops.” Huffing out a sigh, feeling that deep part of himself settle, Numin offered another ever-so-slight peak of the corners of his lips before finishing. “You’re fine, Zero.”

Blinking thrice, Zero found himself taken aback. 

“Th… thanks. That’s good to hear the worst of it should subside in a week.” 

If Zero didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that was Numin’s best efforts at trying to comfort him. At least, it would seem that way in his delivery, but such an assumption would be a bit brash to make with a seemingly heartless individual like him. Or perhaps there was a heart in there, somewhere deep and hidden as to not invite harm, that Numin kept guarded ferociously lest he be taken advantage of.

Zero had to wonder if he was born so abrasive or if it was learned, like a defense mechanism. And he couldn’t lie; he also wondered what was so different in himself that Numin cared not to bare his teeth and intimidate him, like he seems to do to all others who dare interact with him.

Shrugging off the wall, Zero took a few idle steps forward.

“Or at least the worst appearance-wise should clear up, that is. I’m honestly not sure about my memory, though.” On finishing, he was just about at the foot of Numin’s bed, and he extended both hands down on the plastic baseboard to lean in a bit. “If I’m being honest… I can’t even remember what happened between us earlier tonight.”

Although his body language was noticeably less embarrassed, there was an obvious shame in Zero’s expression, and he bit absently at his lower lip as if his lip ring was still present to fidget with.

Numin’s brow peaked up. 

“You don’t remember anything?” Stiffening up, Numin tried to ignore that deep part of him festering once more, sitting like a weight at the bottom of his throat. Swallowing didn’t help; it only made the heavy sensation more vivid. “Do you remember my name, Zero?”

He pretended that he didn’t notice Zero’s mouth twitch into a momentarily frown, before his jaw noticeably clenched to keep himself leveled.

“When… When I woke up, I didn’t.” Woefully, he raised his right hand, and gave a tap to the name still penned on the back of it. With what could only be described as a pitiful smile, he assured Numin, “I did remember where to find it, though.”

Releasing a controlled sigh, Numin accepted those words as enough for him. 

“But a few hours ago? Nothing?” The inquiry held an awful weight in those words, one that Numin wasn’t bothering to hide.

Clicking his tongue, Zero’s gaze wandered up momentarily, as if testing his own recall.

“I remember what the nurse said, about you attacking your previous roommates. And that you offered a trust-fall exercise to show you weren’t a threat to me.” The pale color of his face reddened slightly, and Numin noticed his gaze was now more purposely avoiding his own as he continued, “I-I went over to your bed, and… w-we…”

“We kissed.” Numin finished for him. An uncharacteristically soft smile graced Numin’s features in response to how bashful Zero had become, knowing well it wasn’t the amnesia that was holding Zero back from completing his sentence.

Rewardingly so, he watched as Zero sighed in relief, as if he had been self-doubting if the memory was even real.

“Y-yes, we kissed. But, after that, I-I’m not all too sure what we did…” trailing off, Zero’s eyes kept low to avoid contact with Numin’s, but his diffidence wasn't about to be coddled and catered to by the other man.

“We didn’t fuck if that’s what you’re asking.” Numin supplemented, albeit delivered with a grin of jest. Part of it was just to take delight in watching Zero’s face immediately flush and redden, but a sliver of it was indeed meant to clarify.

And redden he did, almost instantaneously feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. Yet watching Numin subtly smirk at the rise he got out of him, Zero felt the need to justify himself. 

“No, no of course not. After all, it’s not like I woke up sore or bleeding down there or anything--” Cutting himself off, Zero realized his insinuation exposed his typical role in the bedroom, and although it didn’t take a lot of detective work for Numin to figure that one out, Zero still found himself somehow even more embarrassed by the second. Which only served to widen Numin’s already entertained smirk.

“For shame, Zero! Give me more credit than that.” Brazen, but still maintaining an atmosphere of jest, Numin continued with a cocky grin, “I would never prepare a partner so half-heartedly that they bleed from being with me. Or hell, even feel sore.”

“I-I didn’t mean to insinuate, I-I’m just used to—“

“Used to tops that don’t know what they’re doing? Come on Zero, you don’t need to put up with that.”

Zero gave a meek shrug, before slouching into himself.

“I know, I-I know… but I’m used to it, it’s not a big deal.” He leaned off the baseboard, and stepped around it to sit at the foot of Numin’s bed before continuing. “Besides, it already comes with the territory that it’s gonna hurt a little bit each time.”

This time Numin scoffed a bit, seemingly a little less entertained and a bit more irritated at whoever convinced Zero that anal sex was doomed to always hurt a bit. Surely a former sex partner, to excuse their own laziness or inexperience; or at least, Numin guessed so.

“I’m telling you, it really doesn’t have to.” The slight irritation in his tone almost immediately waned upon seeing Zero’s worried gaze up at him, and instead Numin found himself forming his next words before a devilish smirk even had time to grow on his lips. “Still don’t believe me? Oh Zero, don’t make me _prove it_ to you.”

Immediately, the lewd suggestion earned a flustered squeak of surprise from the very much embarrassed Zero.

The amount of blood rushing to his face looked enough to cause a faint, what with the bright vermillion glow his naturally pale skin bloomed with. So much, in fact, that Numin almost expected him to swoon— in the quite literal sense of fainting, that is. It wasn’t as if a man as thin and lithe as Zero exactly had so much blood to spare to bring with.

“P-prove _what—_?” Finally managing to stutter out a line, Zero looked as if he didn’t believe what Numin just suggested. Perhaps in his already sensitive and embarrassed state it wasn’t the right atmosphere to pose such an offer, but Numin couldn’t lie that it was quite cute to watch his sarcastic demeanor wither away into endearing bashfulness.

Numin caught himself thinking that word again. _Cute_.

It was surprising how much Zero drew that word into his head.

“So coy all of a sudden, hm? Do I need to be more direct?” Leaning in, confined by his shackled wrist from getting too close, his face still managed to be only a foot or two away from Zero’s. In his pause, he noticed that despite his blush, Zero leaned in towards him reciprocally, as if awaiting in bated breath for his continuation, sealing Numin’s confidence in what he planned to say next.

“Do you want to fuck me, Zero?”

Eyes immediately widening, Zero’s mouth parted momentarily as if the words got stuck in his throat. In those bright green irises pooled a storm of different emotions, all too intertwined to differentiate, but each playing a role in the dumbfounded look on his face.

No words. No reply. No nothing.

Numin, still smirking, was almost about to poke fun at his sudden stupor until Zero leaned in fast, crashing his lips onto his own hungerly.

And, pushing back into the kiss once he realized what was happening, Numin heard Zero’s non-verbal response. He heard it in the way Zero’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and in the way his slender hand found hold onto his shoulder. He heard it in the feel of Zero’s back arching slightly towards him, he heard it through the muffled groan released against his lips.

Zero’s whole body was practically screaming one word.

Yes, yes, _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright next chapter, if you didn't catch the vibe already, its gonna be straight up smut.
> 
> I'll have to give a formal apology in advance though as I have only ever written penis/vagina or lesbian sex before. But I have indeed fingered a man one (1) time before and have also participated in anal sex so I hope I can depict this at least semi-realistically.
> 
> Anywho, see y'all next time. Let me know if any of you guys don't want something real graphic, because I can make it less so if needed.


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